


We're Just Flesh and Bone

by rafaelbaseball



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Barba Whump, Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, protective Sonny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 02:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 61,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafaelbaseball/pseuds/rafaelbaseball
Summary: When Rafael is attacked and nearly assaulted, Sonny and the squad band together to take care of their ADA and carry him through to the end of his own case.Character study doubling as case fic, a multi-chapter WIP. Characters and tags to be updated as chapters are added.--“Did he touch you?”Rafael’s hand slips out of Sonny’s and lifts to his throat. “Here. He tried— I thought…” He trails off when his voice cracks, looking more helpless than he had the night he’d walked into the precinct with a concussion and a freshly broken wrist. “I didn’t know what to do.”Sonny’s heart aches at the desperation in Rafael’s voice. He tilts Rafael’s chin up so their eyes meet then cups his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby, I should have been there.”Rafael frowns, his shoulders stiffening even under Sonny’s touch. “I should have done more. I shouldn’t have given him the chance to walk through the door.”





	1. i pity you, i pity me, i pity you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He feels a bit like he's floating, in fact, and it's not due to the low dose of morphine in his system. A part of him feels like he isn't all here, isn't entirely present, like he's watching someone else talk about this awful thing that's happened. Usually, Rafael is on the receiving end of a story like this, that's what he's used to and that's certainly, selfishly, what he prefers. "

He isn’t sure how long he’s been here. He isn’t sure how long he’ll be kept here. That’s what it feels like, as necessary as it may be, it feels like they’re forcing him to stay, to give them everything he simultaneously wants to get rid of and keep to himself, even though he’d agreed to it. He’d agreed to do this, to see this through, to do what he knows is the right thing and what he would’ve encouraged anyone else in his position to do.

That doesn’t make it any easier. Opening his eyes to unfamiliar faces hovering above him, strange hands probing at him and making him involuntarily cry out in pain, had been traumatic, he’d thought, but this is somehow worse. The waiting almost always seems to be worse.

They've been professional, respectful, but of course they have, what other option is there? What else could he have expected? 

They’d recognized his name, if not his face, that much had been clear from the start, though he's never personally met a single one of them. It's something he's wondered about before, though: do they think about the people they see day to day? Do they remember the names and the fear and the pain, or is it so heartbreakingly commonplace that once a victim is out the door, those brief few hours of shared history disappears, too? Will they remember this night, the hours spent with him, once he’s left the hospital? Some of his own memories of the cases he's taken on over the years have faded, though he hates to admit it. The simple truth is he can't afford to keep every single one fresh, it'd drive him straight to madness. Still, he wonders if he should feel guilty about forgetting those names and faces, or if those victims, those _people_ , would be glad for it.

"Mr. Barba?"

Rafael's mind had drifted but now he refocuses on the woman standing in front of him. She's Jasmine, she's his nurse, she's here to help. Her hair is long and inky black, it shines under the too bright lights that give him a headache even with the morphine flowing through him, and the way it’s tied back in a simple ponytail reminds him of the way Yelina would wear her hair back in high school. Jasmine's eyes are darker but kinder than Yelina's, at least the Yelina he'd last met. That Yelina had seemed more like a stranger than anything else, just like Alex. Two of the people he’d loved most as a young man had turned out to be two people he never wants to have to speak to again. It hurts to think of them. It hurts to think at all.

_"Everything happens for a reason, Rafi, God has a plan for us all."_

Rafael wonders if his _abuelita_ would still be saying that if she could see him now. He thinks of her rosary, safely tucked away in the drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed. Should he pray when he gets home? He knows what answer he'd get from the only other person he'd ask.

"Mr. Barba?"

Jasmine's asked the same question twice now, and Rafael blinks at her, finally offering a cautious and barely perceptible shake of his head.

"Not right now.” The words come slowly. Heat colors his cheeks. “After, maybe. Probably."

"You're sure? The process can be--"

"I know," he says flatly. "I'm familiar with the process."

There's a flash of guilt in Jasmine's eyes. It makes Rafael regret his tone, but she powers through his attitude. It's what she's trained to do, she doesn't waver. Her kind, understanding smile isn't something Rafael will soon forget and neither is her patience.

They go through most of it in silence, save for the occasional directions and explanations Jasmine gently offers to Rafael and the answers he returns to her.

She swabs around his mouth and gums and tongue then brushes underneath his fingernails where he knows there's evidence. Rafael had thought to scratch. She has to help him undress over a stark, white towel, in case traces of evidence might still be attached to his clothes, but keeps him modest by giving him a horrifically ugly hospital gown to cover himself. They’d taken his lavender dress shirt, a gift from his mother, while working on him in the ER because of the injuries to his abdomen, but Rafael tries to keep his nausea at bay as he watches how carefully Jasmine handles his pants (an expensive pair, damn it, Cucinelli) because there's no doubt of the DNA left there. He imagines his suit jacket is in a bag somewhere in the hospital, along with the rest of his belongings, handed off to a nurse by an EMT upon their arrival in the ambulance bay. His phone will be in that bag and the fingers of his one good hand twitch at the thought.

Normally, he'd feel more naked without his phone than his clothes. For the moment, though, the absence of any means of communication seems like a blessing.

There'd been no penetration, Rafael had told Jasmine bluntly, it hadn’t gotten that far, so he's spared additional swabbing but is still subjected to the black light. She finds what they'd both expected on his thigh and gently scrapes a sample that will surely match what's found on his pants. He's to provide a urine sample to test for STIs, as a precautionary measure, but for now, Rafael grudgingly takes the prophylaxis provided. He agrees, too, to let Jasmine take photos of his injuries.

There's a sizable list:

A spiral fracture to his right wrist. He’s to come back for follow-up x-rays to determine whether he’ll need surgery to fix it.  
A gash at the back of his head. It’d required stitches, he definitely has a concussion and needs to be woken up every two hours over a twenty-four hour period to make sure his responses remain normal.  
A split lip, bruises already visible on his right cheekbone, jawline, and temple, a nondisplaced nasal fracture. These will heal on their own, he’s assured. By tomorrow, he'll have a black eye.  
Three fractured ribs on his right side. They make it hard to take deep breaths but hadn't punctured any major organs.

He can't remember bits and pieces of what had happened, but the doctor seems to think that's normal. It's part of the concussion, it isn't uncommon, it may come back to him with time. A part of Rafael quietly hopes none of it ever will.

It takes a couple hours overall, the clock reads midnight when Jasmine wheels him to a private room and tells him he can rest and is there anyone he'd like called for him now?

"Your emergency contact, maybe?" she asks, almost pointedly.

Rafael's eyes narrow. "No. No, not him." Not now, he needs time to process everything first, and he doesn't think he can do that with puppy dog eyes dutifully watching him, willing him to be okay when really, Rafael is anything but. "You're familiar with Lieutenant Olivia Benson?"

"Oh, yes," Jasmine says. "As I'm sure you’re well aware, SVU hears from us too often."

Rafael nods. "I'd appreciate if someone could call her for me. Don't-- Don't tell her everything. Just let her know I'm asking for her and that I'd prefer it if she didn't mention it to anyone else."

If Jasmine thinks that's odd, she doesn't make a show of it. Instead, she says, "Of course" and "if you need anything at all, just push that button," then leaves the room.

When she shuts the door behind her, she shuts Rafael in with the silence and his thoughts and the vague but ever-present smell of antiseptic.

\--

Liv gets the call ten past midnight. The caller ID reads Mercy General.

For a brief, awful second, she almost considers letting it got to voicemail because technically, she’s not supposed to be at the precinct at all. The only reason she’d come in was to catch up on paperwork on the one night this week Lucy had been able to work the extra hours to watch Noah. What a godsend Lucy is, Liv thinks to herself as she taps the answer button on her phone.

“This is Benson,” she greets, absently flipping through the still far too high pile of case reports awaiting her review.

“Hi, Lieutenant Benson,” a tinny voice says from the other line, “this is Rebecca with Mercy General. I’m calling because we have a Rafael Barba here who requested we reach out to you.”

Liv frowns, entirely convinced that she’s heard that all wrong because why the hell would Barba be having someone call for him from the hospital? “I’m sorry, what? Is he there with you right now?” 

Had someone Barba knows gotten hurt? That’s the only thought she allows herself to believe because the alternative is--

“No, Lieutenant, I’m sorry. EMS brought Mr. Barba in a few hours ago, he was injured. I’m afraid I can’t go into much more detail than that over the phone.”

“Okay.”

 _Okay._ Paperwork forgotten, she stands from her desk, glancing out her window to the bullpen where she can see Carisi playfully tossing a crumpled piece of paper at Amanda, who expertly manages to knock it off course with her palm. She watches Carisi’s grin grow wider then pictures Barba lying in a hospital bed and her stomach turns. 

“He has an emergency contact on file,” Liv says, “nobody’s called him?”

“Mr. Barba asked us not to do that,” Rebecca tells her. “He specifically requested that we contact you. Are you going to be able to make it down here?”

“Yes, yes,” Liv answers hurriedly, reaching for the leather jacket that’s draped on the back of her chair, giving it a shake to ensure she hears the jingle of keys inside. “Of course I can, I’ll be there in the next fifteen to twenty.”

Rebecca promises to get that message relayed to Barba, but Liv barely remembers the walk from her office to Carisi and Amanda’s desks until she’s standing right in front of the two. For too long a beat, her eyes linger on Carisi, who tilts his head at her with a curious expression.

“Everything good, Lieu? Noah’s okay, isn’t he?”

“Noah’s fine, Carisi,” Liv says. She sees Amanda straighten up in her chair just slightly out of the corner of her eye. “I got a call from Mercy General, that’s all. They want me to come down for something.”

“We can go,” Amanda says. Her tone is a little too casual for it to be a genuine offer. It’s closer to a test, she knows something’s wrong, and Liv fixes her with a look that hints at practicing caution. Amanda merely shrugs a shoulder. “You weren’t supposed to be here tonight, anyway.”

“Yeah, Lieu,” Carisi chimes in, “we can handle it, give yourself a break.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Liv tells them. Amanda narrows her eyes, and Liv makes a point of ignoring that. “You two hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“You got it, boss,” Carisi agrees.

Her detective leans back in his chair with a mildly bored sigh, and Liv is tempted to ask if _he_ has any paperwork left to be working on but manages to stop herself. That’s going to be the least of Carisi’s worries in the very near future.

\--

A number of possibilities run through Liv’s mind during her drive to the hospital.

It could be nothing, she tells herself, but she’s also sure that it isn’t. Barba would have called her himself if it was about something minor. At the same time, he’s apparently well enough for the nurses to consider him properly able to actively make decisions about declining to contact his emergency contact and go straight to her instead. By the time she parks her car, Liv has convinced herself that nothing too awful has happened, and Barba probably just doesn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of calling anyone else to come pick him up from his visit to the ER. It’s a slip-and-fall, something ridiculous, maybe he’d dropped a glass and cut his hand. Barba’s just fine.

Whatever small sense of relief she’d provided herself from settling on that scenario immediately leaves her when Jasmine, a SANE she’s known from various cases for a couple years now, is the one to greet her halfway down the hall.

“How bad is it?” Liv asks immediately. She dreads the answer.

Jasmine gives her a tight but reassuring smile, though what she says is nothing near what Liv wants to hear. “I think it’s best if I just take you to him.”

It isn’t too far a walk, just a few rooms down the long stretch of hallway, and Jasmine only stays long enough to make sure Barba’s as comfortable as he can be before leaving the two of them alone.

The silence between them is deafening as Liv takes it all in, and Barba makes no effort to speak as he watches her study him.

There’s swelling and bruising under his eye and alongside his cheek to his jaw, the ugly cut on his lip nearly makes her visibly cringe. Barba's normally healthily tanned skin looks pallid under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room, and the pale blue and white of his gown only serve to give him the appearance of someone much older than he really is. The gray in his messy hair seems to stand out all the more, so do the lines on his face, and that's only what she can see on the surface. There’s an IV needle in his arm indicative of pain bad enough to require a flow of medication and as her eyes travel downward from Barba's face, she takes note of the half cast traveling up his right arm. 

She’s afraid to ask the question, the one she knows Barba is waiting for her to ask, so she stalls.

"This isn't your best look, Barba," she says. The joke falls flat but Barba chuckles anyway, to save her from embarrassment. It doesn't work, and Liv regrets saying it enough that she moves to change the subject without much more hesitation. "You know there's someone else at the precinct who should be here instead, right? Please don't tell me you and Carisi are having a lovers’ spat."

Barba rolls his eyes, dramatically enough that it has to hurt, but he manages not to let that show through. "Sonny and I are fine, thanks for your concern. I just thought you might want to hear what happened without my other half around to influence the narrative." 

His other half. 

This isn’t the first time Liv has heard Barba refer to Carisi using that particular term. He’d shifted the way he’d talked about Carisi over the course of the year since they’d disclosed. They’d both been happy enough to use the word “boyfriend” at first, though she’d heard it more freely from Carisi; but at a certain point, Barba had seemed to turn his nose up at the term. Liv had assumed until this moment that’d only been because he’d found it juvenile. 

At forty-seven, Barba is hardly a "boy" and neither is Carisi, never mind the fact that there's an age difference between the two Barba probably doesn't want to draw attention to in the first place. It only occurs to her now that terms like "other half" seem to infer something much more serious, something more permanent. Barba uses carefully selected phrases like "other half" or "better half" or "partner" because, Liv realizes, he's cluing anyone who's listening in on what his relationship with Sonny really means to him. It isn't a fling, not a mid-life crisis or a booty call, all these things people have had the gall to say the relationship is to Barba's face. 

It's taken some time for Liv, for the entire squad, to accept that what Barba and Carisi have is real but now that they have, it all seems perfectly natural. It's difficult to ignore how happy they clearly make each other when a dimpled, grinning Carisi returns from lunch with Barba. Even more so, it's frankly impossible to ignore a smiling Barba after he's been on the receiving end of those dimples.

"What do you mean 'influence the narrative'?" Liv asks, returning her mind to the present and far more pressing moment.

Barba hesitates at her quizzical expression, then shrugs a shoulder before he can think better of it, following it with a pained groan. Liv almost reaches out to him, one hand hovering over his prone form, but it's futile. There's nothing she can do, no way to take away his pain. She doesn't need to say anything about it for Barba to know how much she hates that. If she could, Liv would take on all the pain in the world to keep the people she cares about safe. She’d desperately like to get her hands on whoever’s done this to Barba, she can feel a familiar sense of vengefulness bubbling inside her. She buries it, for the time being, swallowing hard as she steps forward and offers a weak smile. Barba doesn't need to be avenged right now, she thinks. He'd called her, specifically, here for a reason, and she doesn’t think it’s just because he’d wanted her to hear what happened first. 

"I mean,” Rafael says, “I don't know how forthcoming I'll be about the uglier details if he's right there next to me." 

The unspoken admission is that he wants to spare Sonny the facts. Hell, Rafael wants to spare himself the facts, he wants to get a repeat of this entire evening so he can avoid going to that bar and having a run-in with that man and choosing that time to leave. Instead, he's here, lying in a hospital bed with pain that's only been dulled by medication that's starting to wear off, and he doesn't want to have to recount the story at all. Prosecutors make terrible victims, as it turns out.

"He needs to know, too," Liv urges gently. "You can't keep the truth from him and even if you could, he deserves better than that."

"It's not about what he deserves, Liv."

Rafael averts his gaze from his friend's, staring instead down at his flimsy, cotton bedsheet and tugging at a loose thread he finds. Nobody's going to expect him to be on his game after what's happened, Barba is fully aware of that, but that doesn't mean he wants to take advantage of low expectations. He can't let this get to him, there’s too much he’s responsible for, too much to do. 

He wants to go home, he'll be fine, it's not even that bad. 

These are all arguments he'd tried with the doctors and nurses but none of them would release him without someone to accompany him out of the hospital. He shouldn't be alone, they'd told him, not only because of his head injury but because of the trauma associated with it. 

That's why he'd called Liv. If Sonny were here and had gotten wind of the fact that the doctors wanted to keep Rafael overnight to monitor for any signs of a worsening concussion, there'd be no winning that argument. 

That's when he'd known how much he really loved Sonny, he thinks tangentially, when he'd finally and willingly let Sonny win an argument. It'd been over something absurdly minor, Italian for dinner again over Thai again, but he'll never forget the look of surprised victory on Sonny's face. This time around, he'd much rather deal with the fallout of Sonny being angry with him at leaving against medical advice rather than be forced to stay.

This is the part he's been dreading, though, the part where he's supposed to talk about why he's here. It’s not as if Liv doesn’t have some semblance of an idea of what’s happened, being escorted into the room by a SANE isn’t exactly a subtle clue. At the very least, he can offer the relatively good news that things hadn’t gone as horribly as they could have tonight. Granted, it’s not even a particularly good consolation for himself so he’s not sure how well that will go over with Liv.

She’s studying him now, and he briefly meets her gaze. She sighs, though it thankfully doesn’t seem to be out of frustration. Maybe it’s just a dose of fear over what she thinks he might tell her. "Rafael," she says softly, carefully reaching for his uninjured hand, “what happened tonight?"

"I wasn't raped," he clarifies immediately, then sighs, his cheeks tinting pink. "Not technically."

Her scoff surprises him, shocks enough sudden irritation out of him that he looks up at her again but finds nothing but the purest form of anguish when he meets her eyes. It's the kind of expression she'd reserve not for a colleague but for a friend, for someone who matters to her, and Rafael isn't sure whether that leaves him warm or cold, considering the circumstances.

"I wasn't," he insists, squeezing her hand, and he can see her shoulders visibly relax. She believes him. He's relieved. "Assaulted, yes, obviously. I stopped by Whiskey Tavern for some dinner and a drink after work. There was a man there." He frowns, his brow creasing with frustration. "I don't remember his name. Some things are still fuzzy, he-- well, he came onto me. I declined, _politely _." He ignores Liv's arched brow. "He followed me out and forced me into the alleyway next to the bar. I resisted, he grabbed me and turned me around, twisted my arm. I heard the break."__

__Rafael hears it with a jolt now, too, echoing in his ears, and he feels like he’s back there now. He feels a bit like he's floating, in fact, and it's not due to the low dose of morphine in his system. A part of him feels like he isn't all here, isn't entirely present, like he's watching someone else talk about this awful thing that's happened. Usually, Rafael is on the receiving end of a story like this, that's what he's used to and that's certainly, selfishly, what he prefers._ _

__He swallows hard, wishing away the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "He slammed my head against the wall then forced me to get on my knees,” he continues, mechanically now, like he’s reading a transcript of a trauma that isn’t his own. “He unzipped his pants, he was erect. He told me to open my mouth, I refused, he hit me. Then he hit me again, I hit the ground that time so he started kicking instead."_ _

__The doctors have told him there isn’t much to do in the way of treatment for his broken ribs. Nothing had pierced his lungs, there'd been no pneumothorax, no pleural effusion, and it's all supposed to Very Good News. He slips his hand from Liv’s to lift it to the tender spot at his temple where there’s a bump growing, his fingertips grazing over it. That will be one of the first things Sonny sees tonight, and Rafael’s chest constricts at the thought of being the reason his partner's infectious smile disappears._ _

__"Anyway," he continues, weariness weighing him down, creeping into his tone, "that's when someone came out. Apparently. Something like that, I don't really know, I was too out of it at that point to understand what was going on. The guy who attacked me ran. I scraped at him with my nails, the nurse already swabbed." His voice catches in his throat before he manages to finish what he needs to share. "He got off on it, hurting me. The guy came on me, Liv, on my suit." He smiles weakly, hot tears welling in his eyes. "Can't just take it to the dry cleaner's now that it's in an evidence bag."_ _

__His stomach churns and he clutches at it because he’s worried he might actually lean over the bed rail and throw up on the floor. Liv’s on her feet, looking at him with the concern he wishes he didn’t have to see, and his eyes find the blinding lights on the ceiling. He stares in silence with unshed tears burning until his vision whites out and he blinks Liv back into focus because she's speaking. Her mouth is moving and Rafael hadn't even realized it until right this second so he does his best to catch up._ _

__"--get him, Rafael. I promise you, I'll get CSU and TARU on it, we'll pull video feeds from everywhere within the vicinity of the bar, we'll interview the person who found you, we'll do it all. We're going to find him."_ _

__Rafael hums, a noncommittal sound that bears no real meaning behind it. There’s real exhaustion settling in now that he's told her, now that she has a better understanding of why he's struggling with what he wants Sonny to know. He doesn’t want to lie to Sonny, and he won’t. It’s just that he’d needed a little bit of time before he going into full detail in his partner’s presence. He knows he’ll have to give another statement, a more detailed one, but he’d needed this. Telling Liv the truth makes it impossible for him to even consider keeping it from anyone else, it’s a push he’d had to give himself. Even just that minuscule sense of control is something Rafael is grasping for, and he thinks Liv knows what that’s like. She's been through that and judging by the way she’s looking at him, with that softened expression and hint of sadness in her eyes, Rafael imagines it must be suddenly so clear why he'd wanted to see her first._ _

__"I am here for you," Liv tells him, making sure to hold his gaze, to keep her voice steady but gentle._ _

__"Thank you," Rafael says, and he doesn't know what else to say but he hopes his tone encompasses well enough how much gratitude he really does have for her. She's the closest thing to a best friend he's had since Alex and Eddie, mostly because he'd gone out of his way for years to avoid any real kind of emotional connection with anyone. Rafael has seen the worst of people, the ever deeper bottom of each barrel, and as much as he truly does love his job, there's no way that doesn't eat at a person on a certain level. Not many people have the patience to push past his prickly layers, but Liv does. The rest of the squad does, to an extent. Sonny, by far, is the most patient of them all._ _

___Sonny._ _ _

__Tugging at the collar of his gown, Rafael wrinkles his nose and his look to Liv turns pleading. "Get me out of you here, will you? They said they didn't see any hemorrhaging in my brain scans, but they're worried about the fuzzy memory. Won't let me out without an adult to hold my hand and make sure I don’t fall asleep more than a couple hours at a time, but I can't stay. I can't. I need to see Sonny."_ _

__"Friendly reminder that he could've come to you if you'd called him," Liv tells him, a half-heartedly teasing lecture that Rafael only grimaces at, but she doesn't seem to intend to resist his pleas. "I'll get the paperwork rolling, they'll want you to sign a few things, and they'll need to write you a script for meds." She knows, she remembers. Rafael doesn't comment on it other than to grunt his understanding. "He’s at the precinct. Should I take you home, have him meet us there?”_ _

__“No. No, I’m not ready to go home.” He’s not ready to close his eyes, to risk reliving this night yet again in his nightmares. “Just take me to the precinct.”_ _

__Liv hesitates but nods. “Do you want me to call him before we head over?”_ _

__Rafael considers this for a moment, doing his best to quickly weigh which option would be better: surprise his partner by showing up with a mangled face, stitches, and a newly acquired cast or try to convince Sonny not to come straight to the hospital when they're already meant to be leaving? Neither sounds particularly appealing._ _

__“We'll see him when we get there," Rafael decides, somewhat shamefully. It’ll give him more time to anticipate Sonny’s reaction, anyway, and how best to respond to it. Silver linings._ _

__Liv is quiet for a moment, examining him to the point of mild discomfort on his end over being so closely scrutinized, but then she gets up and heads for the door. "I'll be right back, you'll barely know I was gone."_ _

__Rafael leans back against his pillow once she leaves the room, returning his gaze to the ceiling lights and breathing a heavy sigh. The trip to the precinct, as desperately as he wants to be there just for the comforting presence that awaits him, is not going to be a pleasant one. He closes his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line._ _

__Sonny is going to lose his mind._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes or inconsistencies are my own.
> 
> I've been low key waffling on whether to post this or not. I've been working on this fic since July of last year and have over 30K words just sitting in Docs, waiting to be posted, and would dare to say that only makes it about half finished. I finally decided to bite the bullet and work on refining chapters for posting. The second chapter is almost ready and will likely be up by tomorrow or the following day. I hope you will enjoy it, and I'll do my best to update as regularly as possible. Let me know what you think in the comments, I look forward to going on this journey with those of you willing to stick with me. Thank you <3


	2. i survived but i'm paying for it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rafael shouldn't have to be dealing with this right now. None of them should, nobody should, but here they are and Sonny wishes someone would shake him awake from this nightmare. Last night, he’d been counting the freckles on Rafael’s nose, scattering kisses over his boyfriend’s cheeks and jaw for each one found. He won’t be able to do that tonight, doing that would cause Rafael actual pain, and it just seems unimaginable, even with the evidence right in front of him. "

Rafael is given a pair of seafoam green scrubs to change into before leaving the hospital, and he’s not over the moon about it. 

There’s no other option, it’s not as if Liv could have been expected to know she should stop to pick up an extra set of clothes for him on the way here, but Rafael decides acting petulant about it and dedicating far too much focus on something that doesn’t really matter at all is better than thinking about Everything Else.

“You couldn’t have brought me a more flattering color?” he complains, wrinkling his nose in distaste as Jasmine airs out the shirt for him. “I do pretty well in pink, you know.”

Jasmine laughs. It’s melodic, almost soothing, a brief and welcome distraction from the reason why he needs to wear these scrubs in the first place. Her laugh makes him smile and just as quickly, it makes him realize this is the first real smile he’s been able to muster since he’d sat down at the Whiskey Tavern tonight. 

“Sorry, Mr. Barba, this is the best I could do on short notice. I’m going to untie your gown now.”

Rafael just barely manages to grunt his response before she’s helping him get changed, and she’s so gentle and quick about encouraging him to lift his arms for her that he doesn’t have time to feel any sense of humiliation over not being able to do it by himself. A hiss of pain when he has to raise his hips is met with a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder and even if it is embarrassing that he’s worked up a sweat after all this mild effort, Rafael’s frustration is eased by the fact that Jasmine doesn’t look at him with any trace of pity. Empathy, yes, but it’s not the same thing. He doesn’t think he could stand having an extra set of sad eyes on him tonight. 

“Lieutenant Benson should be back any minute,” Jasmine tells him, smoothing down the sleeves of his scrub top. “And for the record, you look great in green.”

Rafael scoffs but before he can muddle through his thoughts for a retort, there’s a knock at the door and Liv enters, crossing the room with a stack of papers in her hand and another nurse pushing a wheelchair behind her.

“Okay, I’ve got your discharge papers and prescription, we’re all set to go,” Liv says. “Ready?”

Rafael’s expression hardens, and he points at the wheelchair with his good hand, firmly shaking his head and stubbornly pushing through the subsequent burst of pain. “No. I don’t need that, no, thank you.”

Though she’s clearly not surprised, Liv gives him an exasperated look. “You’ve got three broken ribs, Barba, and a head injury. The less walking you have to do right now, the better.”

“Also, it’s policy,” the new nurse adds, nervously shifting her gaze down to the ground when Rafael glares at her.

“You’ll only need to be in it until we get you to Lieutenant Benson’s car,” Jasmine tells him, her voice kept low and soft, “then you’re free to do whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t involve anything like cartwheels or breakdancing.”

“My two favorite pastimes,” Rafael deadpans. 

He purses his lips, nearly pouting, but neither Liv nor Jasmine look impressed with his theatrics. If not for the broken ribs, he’d heave a dramatic sigh but as it is, all he can do is allow the nurses to gingerly lower him into the wheelchair. If anyone notices his trembling once he’s settled and the way he clutches at the arm of his chair with his good hand, they don’t say anything. Jasmine merely offers him another smile, making him promise he’ll let himself be taken care of, which he does even though Liv can’t hold back a snort at that. 

Before being wheeled out of the room, he reaches out to catch Jasmine’s hand, squeezing gently and searching her eyes with his own, though he finds himself speechless once he has her attention. She’s only been doing her job, true, but Rafael has taken for granted up until now just how utterly important that job really is. Jasmine is largely responsible for keeping him calm, for making him feel safe in an environment that’s always seemed to Rafael too sterile and cold, too filled with pain and suffering. Is it appropriate to send a gift basket to the nurse who’d helped him through an assault? It’s a strange, fleeting thought. Sonny would want to bring her a full home-cooked meal and give her a grateful hug for the way she’s treated Rafael tonight, there’s no doubt, but Rafael can only muster a hoarse “thank you” before Liv is wheeling him away.

They make it to the car without incident, even if Rafael does mutter an expletive or two over Liv fussing over his seatbelt for him. The ride to the precinct is quiet, Liv doesn’t even turn on the radio, and it’s not exactly uncomfortable but it’s still surprising. Rafael isn’t entirely sure what he’d expected. Maybe he’d been waiting for her to probe for more details or hit him with a frequent string of pop quizzing to make sure he’s okay every time the car hits a tiny bump in the road. He doesn’t get any of that, and the only times he steals a glance at Liv, Rafael finds that her gaze remains steady on the road ahead. 

It isn’t until Liv parks the car that she speaks to Barba again. She isn’t even sure of why she’d spent the whole car ride quiet in the first place but there are so many things, so many questions running through her mind, that she doesn’t quite know where to begin. Beyond that, she just hadn’t been able to bring herself to offer up any more words of comfort that would have come off as empty in the face of what Barba’s been through tonight. Nothing had consoled her after Lewis, nothing had reached her, not for a long time. She knows this isn’t the same thing and Barba would never claim it is, but he’s still been through a horrible trauma.

She allows herself half a minute while they sit together, the key still in the ignition and the air conditioner running on low, before she twists in her seat to look at him. It takes her the other half of that minute to recover from taking in those bruises on Barba’s face all over again, and she can’t decide whether they look worse under the bright lights of a hospital room or in the shadows.

“You’re sure you want to go inside?” she finally asks. 

It’d occurred to her on the drive over that there are other cops in there, officers who aren’t part of their squad, and she isn’t sure whether Barba had actually considered that yet. Both their minds have been so singularly on getting Barba to Carisi that she thinks that little fact had slipped through the cracks. After everything that had happened with those death threats, after Reynolds and Munson, she knows how important the way he presents himself is to Barba. Walking into that precinct, with his injuries as considerably extensive as they are, may not be what he wants after all. She remembers the looks she’d gotten coming out of that house once she’d taken Lewis out and has to actively restrain herself from shuddering at the memory. What’s important right now, she reminds herself, is that she be ready to help Barba do what he wants.

“Oh.” Squirming a bit, Barba avoids her eyes, clicking his seatbelt free of its lock as he clears his throat. “It’s okay.” Her silence must be telling because when she doesn’t respond, he looks up at her. “Really, it is. Hell, they’ll find out one way or another, right? This won’t stay out of the news for very long.”

She’s inclined to agree. It may not hit big channels until they actually have a suspect in custody but a Manhattan ADA becoming a near victim of rape isn’t going to be a story the reporters ignore, especially not the ones who are already so familiar with Barba. The cameras love him, the journalists love his sound bytes and ever-quotable witticisms, and most of the time, Barba seems to love preening for them. This time, though, Liv will make damn sure they leave him the hell alone.

“Come on,” she says, giving Barba’s knee an encouraging pat. “Let’s get you inside.”

\--

It takes longer than he’d like to admit to make their way through the doors of the precinct. Broken ribs and dizziness from a concussion don’t make for excellent supporters of walking or general upright movement, and Rafael has to stop more than a couple times with his hand gripping Liv’s and his body braced for a potential fall before they manage to get inside. The distance from the entrance to the bullpen is much, much longer than Rafael remembers, he’s almost certain someone’s gone out of their way to extend it, and he can’t help but weakly make the joke out loud as he limps past a few curious officers.

“We’re almost there,” Liv assures him. 

Rafael wishes she would’ve laughed at the joke instead, even the few briefest seconds of levity would have been nice, but he supposes he can’t fault her when she’s got her brow furrowed in concentration for the sake of making sure he doesn’t trip over his own feet. Sonny will owe Liv a meal and a hug now, too.

He isn’t sure whether he ought to be relieved or offended that nobody actually asks after him as they continue through to the bullpen. It’s not a busy or bustling night, the precinct is fairly empty, save for a few handcuffed perps here and there to keep at least a few of the officers on duty busy. The stares are heavy, Rafael can almost feel them weighing him down, and he wishes he could find the courage to return a challenging gaze to anyone who dares to keep their eyes on him for too long but he can only look at the floor. 

This had been his idea, he reminds himself, he’d said this would be okay. He’d said he could handle this and now that’s what he has to do. Just a few more steps will get him to Sonny and that thought alone makes what feels like some twisted form of a Walk of Shame worth it.

When they do finally reach the squad’s cluster of desks, Sonny’s back is turned toward them. Rafael can see the silver parts of his hair shining even under the dull lights of the office, can hear his partner’s voice loud and animated, even this late at night. Sonny’s leaning forward in his chair, Rafael can tell, and he’s gesturing wildly with his hands. Rafael can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but the bored look on Amanda’s face says it all, really. A twinge of envy tugs at Rafael’s heart. He’d give anything to be at home, in bed, listening to Sonny ramble about things of absolutely no interest to him right now.

Irrationally petty as it may be, Rafael considers it in his favor when Rollins is the first to notice him there. She’s the one who makes eye contact with him over Sonny’s head, the one whose courteous smile fades after she does what would have been an otherwise amusing double take and looks Rafael over head to toe, her jaw dropping just slightly and eyes widening like she belongs in a cartoon rather than a police station. Just as entertaining is the way Rollins looks over at Liv next, as if she needs confirmation from her lieutenant that she isn't just imagining what’s right in front of her. She visibly reaches acceptance of the situation quickly enough, softening then, for which Rafael is grateful, and saying Sonny’s name.

Rafael is grateful because it’s not for him. The way Rollins seems to grow gentler, the way she slips into the role of some kind of protector, is for Sonny. He watches her nod vaguely in his direction and as Sonny’s head turns, Rafael finds himself physically bracing himself for the impending reaction. 

Sonny’s brow is knit so tightly in confusion when their eyes meet that Rafael wishes he could just reach a hand  
over to smooth it out. It takes another few seconds for Sonny to register what he’s seeing but when he does, he practically knocks over his chair in his effort to stand. The offensive scrape of metal against tile makes Rafael wince, but he remains still, waiting for Sonny to speak first because every single explanation he’d prepared on the car ride over seems to have disappeared. 

"Raf, what the hell?" Sonny’s voice cracks at his name. Rafael just wants to hold him, be held by him, either one will do.

"It's okay," Rafael lies immediately. He has to be okay, otherwise Sonny won’t be okay, and he can’t have that. "I'm okay."

"He's not," Liv interjects, ignoring the baleful glare Rafael shoots her way, "but that's why I brought him here. Amanda, we might be a little while, okay? Carisi, my office."

Sonny watches, rooted in place, as Liv ushers Rafael away, too shell-shocked to move. He feels disconnected somehow, it’s an odd and distant feeling, like he’s not actually here and everything he’s just seen happen before his eyes might all just be in his head. He blinks hard and long enough to see stars behind his eyelids and when he opens his eyes again, he’s disappointed to find nothing has changed. He’s still standing at his desk with Amanda staring at him with her lips parted just slightly and that crease on her forehead she gets when she’s annoyed. She wants to say something, she doesn't like that she's being left out of this, but Rafael won’t want her in there. They both know that. It isn’t personal, at least not directly against her. They both know that, too. 

As aware of this as Sonny knows Amanda is, she shoots Sonny a patent look, lips now pursed. It’s a look that demands all the details once all is said and done. There's a hint of worry in that look, too, and if Sonny wasn’t so overwhelmed with the slew of different emotions coming at him all at once right now, he'd thank her. She'd know why he was saying it, just like Amanda will know why Sonny doesn't actually say anything at all. He merely gives her the slightest nod and turns to catch up to his boss and his boyfriend, heart pounding in his chest once he's in Liv's office and has closed the door behind him.

"Okay, what's going on?" Sonny asks, already pacing back and forth between the door and where Rafael has lowered himself onto one of the chairs in front of Liv's desk, one arm wrapped around his abdomen. 

He tries not to scream when the Lieu sighs like he's out of line for asking what the hell happened to his own boyfriend, but he stares at her with pleading eyes because the alternative is looking at Rafael. Sonny’s already catalogued the bruises marring the face he’s mapped and memorized, the split lip, the cast, the bags under Rafael's eyes that point to his obvious exhaustion. That’d just been at first glance. The thought of what he might find later, when they’re alone and he’s searching his boyfriend’s body for every last thing that might be hurting him, makes Sonny sick. 

"Take a seat, Carisi," Liv says, her gaze flickering between her detective and her ADA. She keeps her tone even, though a part of her wants to chastise Carisi for walking in here, guns a'blazing. She gets it, she really does. Carisi loves Barba deeply, it's written all over his face every time Barba walks through the doors of the precinct, but that doesn't mean he can lose his head now. What Barba needs is their support, he doesn't need anyone to come at him with any kind of aggression, whether or not Carisi means for it to come off that way. As strong and impenetrable a force as Barba tends to be, there isn't going to be an escape from the hell he's going through, not for a while. Liv can attest to that.

She's relieved when Carisi obeys her order, noting the way he almost looks over at Barba but doesn't quite succeed. He wrings his hands in his lap, she imagines his palms are probably sweaty from worry and anticipation, his cheeks are stained a blotchy red from his frustration. Barba, meanwhile, is silent, a far cry from how willing to talk about the circumstances of the evening at the hospital. That, too, Liv understands. He'd said as much, that having Carisi present might alter the facts he presents. It won't be easy for Barba to explain any of this with the man he goes home with every night sitting right beside him, looking like he wants to rip someone’s head off.

"The call I got earlier was from Mercy General," Liv starts. "It was about Barba." That much, she’s sure Carisi has already gathered. "I didn't say anything to you because--"

"--because I asked her not to," Rafael finishes for her, finally lifting his head to face Sonny. His jaw works before he can find it in himself to continue, his stomach twisting at the thought of having to tell Sonny any of this at all. Humiliation hadn’t reared its ugly head at the hospital, not even on the slow walk through the precinct, but it does now, in front of the man he loves, the one person he can always trust not to cast judgment on him. It’s better to do this here, though, Rafael reasons, with Liv already aware of the situation and prepared to fill in the blanks he's sure will come. 

"Rafael.” His name leaves Sonny’s lips as a near whisper but Rafael can still hear the hurt in his voice. It nearly breaks him when Sonny can't seem to hold himself back any longer and reaches out to gently brush the pad of his thumb over the bruise curving up Rafael's cheekbone. "Jesus Christ, babe.” Sonny swallows hard, remembering himself, where they are. “What happened?"

Retelling the events of what'd happened at the bar is worse the second time around, if only because he doesn’t spare any of the more gruesome details like he’d thought he might. Rafael doesn't leave out the part about how his assailant had demanded he “open his pretty mouth” or how the man had pawed at his groin, tugged at his suspenders while grinding their bodies together without paying any mind to his victim’s shouts for help. By the time he’s finished, Rafael has flustered himself into silence while he watches Liv try not to cringe and Sonny squeeze a hand into a fist in his lap until his knuckles turn white, expression unreadable other than the plain anger. 

"He told me his name, in the bar, when he first approached me. I don’t remember it. I know it’s there, somewhere, but…” Rafael trails off, gritting his teeth. “I don’t remember it.”

“It’s okay,” Sonny tells him gently, his other hand moving from resting gently on the back of Rafael’s neck to the top of Rafael’s good hand. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. It’ll come back to you or someone from the bar will remember who it was or we’ll try to match the guy’s face to the database once we get footage. We’ll find him, I promise.”

It’s not a promise Sonny should be making, but Rafael still nods. This is what Sonny does, he needs to fix things when they get hard, so if making that promise is how he’s going to cope right now, Rafael won’t fight it.

Rafael turns his palm upward so he can lace his fingers through Sonny’s, leaning back in his chair with a groan of discomfort. He can't remember ever feeling this exhausted, not even after days and days of surviving off a handful of hours of sleep, a metric ton of caffeine and a granola bar or two provided by Carmen to make sure he was adequately prepped for a case. This is exhaustion on a whole different level. His entire body hurts, he feels like his mind is overworked, and all Rafael really wants to do his crawl into bed with Sonny's arms around him. 

"Carisi’s right,” Liv adds. “Given some time, it might come back to you. You might be able to identify him, or we might get to him first." She pauses resting her forearms on her desk. "If and when that happens, I assume you're going to want to pursue charges?"

"Of course he is," Sonny says. He'd managed to keep his eyes on Rafael the entire time his boyfriend had been telling his story but now, he whips his head to give Liv an incredulous look. "There's no way we're letting this guy get away with this."

"Carisi," Liv says, holding up a hand, "as important as it is that Barba has disclosed in the first place, it's his choice. We should hear it from him."

Rafael's already shaking his head dismissively. "He’s sitting right here and yes, he’s pressing charges," he says, "even if it means going to trial. This guy, he didn’t get everything he wanted out of me, he might end up doing it to someone else. I won’t let that happen if I can help it."

"I know some things are fuzzy," Liv prods carefully, “and you mentioned he was tall and blonde, tan with an athletic build. You didn’t notice anything else, no tattoos? What he was wearing, maybe?”

“Think I would’ve told you if I did,” Rafael mutters. He regrets it, but Liv doesn’t call him out for his attitude, which only makes him feel worse. She’s his friend but this is her job, he has to keep remembering that, but he's related the story twice now and poring over it again and again does not sound remotely appealing. Still, he lets his eyes slip shut, trying to remember what he can, desperate as he is to just forget everything altogether. “A suit, he was wearing a suit. Gray suit, linen jacket, powder blue button up. Rolex, I scratched the arm with the Rolex. Smelled like-- like he was wearing Tom Ford, maybe. Everything about him screamed ‘expensive.’ He knew who Sonny was, or at least knew of our relationship. He told me I should let it happen because there’s no way my boyfriend would want to be with a slut like me anyway.” When Rafael’s eyes open again, he can only look at his lap, at Sonny’s hand in his. “That’s when it starts getting hard to remember, he started kicking me then. I felt something warm and wet on my leg, but I didn’t know what it was at first. I thought maybe I was bleeding there, too. Someone came out to the alley from the bar, the guy ran. Then I blacked out and woke up halfway to the hospital in the ambulance.” 

Rafael takes a big, shuddering breath, a short whimper escaping him from the pain it causes in his ribs, and Sonny has never felt more helpless.

Rafael shouldn't have to be dealing with this right now. None of them should, nobody should, but here they are and Sonny wishes someone would shake him awake from this nightmare. Last night, he’d been counting the freckles on Rafael’s nose, scattering kisses over his boyfriend’s cheeks and jaw for each one found. He won’t be able to do that tonight, doing that would cause Rafael actual pain, and it just seems unimaginable, even with the evidence right in front of him. The myriad of bruises coloring Rafael’s face, the pain that seems to be already permanently etched in new lines on his face, is distracting and devastating to the point that Sonny wants to look away, yet it's his instinct to keep his eyes on his boyfriend. More than anything else, the guilt of not being there to stop this grows stronger by the minute. 

Sonny is hard on himself, always, but when it comes to taking care of Rafael, he's his own worst critic. Rafael has gone so long taking care of himself, of keeping certain parts of himself locked away from prying eyes (or in this case, Rafael had told him once, puppy dog eyes), that Sonny had made a point of promising he'd do everything in his power to make sure Rafael always knows he’s loved. There's a ferocity to Sonny's protective streak for Rafael, he would do anything to keep Rafael safe, but tonight, he'd failed. 

“That’s good, Barba,” Liv is saying now, “that’s really good. Those details are important, it’ll make your statement stronger.”

She doesn’t need to say that, Sonny thinks, Rafael knows that; but it’s hard not to slip into that mode of talking to a victim, even Sonny’s struggling with it. A part of him expects Rafael to get defensive but instead, his boyfriend just hums his understanding, blinking tired eyes. They need to get home, get Rafael some relief for his pain, and Sonny looks to Liv, trying to mask his worry.

“That should be enough for now, don’t you think, Lieu?” Sonny asks, rubbing his hand gently over Rafael’s back. Rafael’s still looking down past his knees, eyes glazed over but for the occasional pinched cringe of pain. Sonny’s chest tightens every time he catches sight of it. “I’d like to take Rafael home if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Liv tells him, offering a sad but understanding smile. “I’ll get in touch with the DA, make sure he’s aware of the situation so don’t worry about that. Barba?”

Rafael glances up at her through hooded eyes, seeing but not really seeing, and it’s clear to both Liv and Sonny that he’s doing his best to try to compensate for the medication that’s been wearing off. 

“Get some rest,” she continues softly. “I’m just a phone call away if either of you needs me.”

“Thank you,” Rafael mumbles, putting up no fight when Sonny gingerly helps him to his feet and slips an arm around his waist to support him on the way to the door. “Liv, really, thank you. For everything.”

“I’m here for you,” Liv says, echoing her sentiment from earlier, and she sighs once they’re out the door as she looks down at the discharge papers that have been left behind with a frown.

\--

It’s a selfish thing to do, he knows that even as he guides Rafael to his desk, but Sonny needs this. He needs the answer to a question that’s been nagging at him since Rafael had walked into the precinct with Liv tonight, no matter how ridiculous that might make him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Amanda pretending not notice when he settles Rafael in his chair and brushes away a few loose strands of hair from his boyfriend’s perspiring forehead. 

“Raf, sweetheart, give me a few minutes to talk to Liv about a couple things, okay? She’s still got your paperwork from the hospital. Sit right here, I won’t be long, then we’ll get you home.”

“I’m not a child,” Rafael answers, though there’s a petulant pout forming at his lips that betray his words. “I’m capable of sitting still.”

Sonny can think of a number of different instances to present that would disprove that particular claim, but he opts for pressing a kiss to the top of Rafael’s head instead. A quick glance up to catch the scramble of officers who’d been watching try to find ways to busy themselves makes him grimace, but it’s the least of his problems right now. Besides, Rafael isn’t here under professional circumstances, he isn’t here as ADA Barba. He’s here as a victim. The bitter taste in Sonny’s mouth returns, but he swallows it down and forces a smile. 

“I’ll be right back.”

Liv doesn’t look surprised to see him return, watching him over the rims of her glasses as he approaches her desk again. She taps the stack of papers lying in front of her. “You left his discharge papers in here on purpose, I assume?”

Sonny sets his mouth in a thin line. “He called you first.” It’s not an accusation, there’s not even any anger or force behind his words, just a heavy hint of weariness and confusion that’s reflected in his eyes.

Liv glances down at the papers before pulling her glasses off and setting them down on her desk. “Yes, he did.”

“I don’t want to ask him about it. I can’t. He’s hurting, look at him, _god_. Someone did that to him, Liv, and they’re still out there somewhere, and-- and he called you first. Help me understand. We love each other, we’re supposed to trust each other, he’s supposed to let me take care of him. I’m supposed to be his first call.”

“Carisi,” Liv interrupts, holding a placating hand up to stop him from rambling. “Stop. He trusts you. Don’t let this make you doubt that. He called me first _because_ he loves you.”

“What?”

“He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to tell the full truth about what happened if you were there with him at the hospital. He knew it would hurt you to see him like that. So yes, Rafael called me first. He called me first because he knew I’d be able to hear it without looking at him the way you’ve been looking at him from the second he walked in here.”

Sonny’s brows lift in surprise as he tries, poorly, to shift the agony in his expression into something a little less miserable. “I don’t--”

“You’ve been looking at him like it’s on you, like it’s your fault it happened, and it’s not. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault.”

“I switched shifts with Fin tonight,” Sonny admits, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I was supposed to meet Rafael for dinner, but Ken called to see if Fin was free and they don’t get to spend enough time together, you know? They don’t get to spend enough time together, and I wanted Fin to see his kid and his grandkid, so I said I’d switch. Liv, if I’d been there tonight--”

“But you weren’t,” Liv says firmly. She holds Sonny’s gaze, lets him catch a breath. “You weren’t there, and you can put yourself through a lifetime of what ifs but that doesn’t change what happened to Rafael. He doesn’t need your guilt, he needs the man he loves to be there for him.” She gestures out toward the bullpen. “He’s in pain, and he’s scared, and he’s waiting for you. So be there for him.”

“Yeah.” Sonny tries to commit the words to memory, to remind himself that the only thing that matters is taking care of Rafael. His own feelings are irrational, he’s aware of that, but hearing it aloud helps puts things back in perspective. “I’m sorry, I just need to get my head on straight before I go back to him.”

“It’s fine,” Liv tells him, holding out Rafael’s papers for Sonny to take. “I had them fax his prescription over to the CVS down the block from your place. It’s Vicodin and ibuprofen, Zofran in case the medication makes him nauseous. If he’s able to get to sleep, you’ll want to wake him up every two hours to make sure nothing seems off. They want him back at the hospital in about three days to check on the fractures and stitches, it’s all in there. I want you to take a week and let me know if you need more time off after that.”

“Liv…” 

“I know, Carisi. We’re on it, and I promise I’ll keep you updated. We’ll find the son of a bitch. Just… take care of him.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now get him home.”

She’s relieved when Sonny turns to leave but the quiet she seeks doesn’t last long once there’s another knock at the open door. Amanda doesn’t wait for an invitation to poke her head in, concern and curiosity written in equal parts in her expression.

“You okay?” she asks, slipping inside. She leans back against the door once it’s shut, studying a silent Liv carefully before deciding it’s safe to make her way to a seat. “Barba didn’t say a word while Carisi was in here. He looked bad, was he mugged?” Amanda’s frown deepens when Liv avoids eye contact. She leans forward, elbows resting on the edge of Liv’s desk. “Liv, tell me he was mugged.”

There’s a slight tremble at Liv’s lips before she takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “He wasn’t mugged. He was-- He was almost raped.”

The silence that fills the room is somehow still loud but maybe that’s just the blood rushing through Amanda’s ears. “You said ‘almost’?”

Liv clears her throat then nods. “The perp didn’t manage to get that far, he was interrupted. I’ll, um, I’ll give you and Fin the rundown tomorrow, okay? I listened to him tell the story twice already, I’m not sure I can handle going over it again.”

“You’re not okay.”

“He’s my friend,” Liv says, huffing an incredulous, humorless laugh as her eyes find the ceiling. “I walked into Mercy General and a SANE took me to him, and I thought-- I don’t even know what I thought. My stomach just dropped. I’ve never seen him look that vulnerable, not in the entire time we’ve known him. I never want to see him looking like that again.”

“Carisi’s got him. You know he’ll take good care of him.”

“I know he will. I’m not worried about that. But it’s still Barba.” It’s still Barba, who sometimes seems like he’s keeping people at arm’s length no matter how deeply he cares for them. It’s Barba, who’s always seemed so untouchable, so safe from the dangers they see others face every single day. With a helpless shake of her head, she meets Amanda’s worried eyes again. “It’s Barba, Amanda.”

“I get it. It’s never supposed to happen to one of us.”

They share tight, mutually understanding smiles. No matter how true the sentiment is, the fact remains it had, yet again, happened to one of their own. 

All they can do is try to keep moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not getting the second chapter up as quickly as I intended. I had my last wisdom tooth extracted and underestimated how long it would take to heal up then immediately went on a quick Disneyland getaway for Barisi Con 2K18 ^__^ In any case, if you're still reading and still wanting to stick with me, thank you so much. I so appreciate the support and interest for the story, I honestly can't adequately describe how much your comments mean to me. I promise I'll try to get better at responding to them...
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, the next one is pretty much going to focus specifically on Rafael and Sonny but there's plenty more to come, and I'm excited to continue sharing with you all! All mistakes are my own but I must give my eternal thanks to Jules for reading this before I posted and for her most glorious encouragement. Let me know what you think in the comments <3


	3. cards on the table, we're both showing hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think I should’ve fought harder?” Rafael asks, the words coming a little slurred. He hadn’t meant to voice the thought out loud. He’s grateful that the room is dark but for the light of the TV because his cheeks flush, and he wonders if Sonny can feel the heat radiating against him. “I mean, do you think people will say I should’ve fought harder? Known better? Done more?”
> 
> “Hey.” Sonny’s soft yet stern voice brings him out of creating scenarios Rafael knows are unlikely, even if they are still entirely possible. They’ve both seen worse backlash against victims. “This isn’t your fault.”
> 
> “The party line, right?”
> 
> “We mean it when we say it, don’t we?”
> 
> Sonny’s got a point there. That doesn’t make it any more convincing.

Home doesn’t feel like home. 

Any illusion of comfort Rafael had imagined for himself is shattered the second he walks through the door and feels nothing. It’s empty, like expecting to be welcomed with open arms and realizing there’s nobody there to greet him after all. It’s too quiet. At least in the hospital, there’d been distractions. Doctors and nurses hustling in and out of the trauma room, people telling him over an intercom that he’ll be fine and they’ll get him fixed right up through CT scans and x-rays, then there’d been Jasmine talking him through every step of his exam after he’d been put in his cast and the stitches had been put in his head. 

It’s not Sonny’s fault he doesn’t know what to say. Rafael isn’t sure talking is what he wants to do anyway. Taking a breath is painful, breathing is painful, and to talk means he’d have to breathe so maybe it’s better just to stay quiet. 

But the silence hurts, too, in its own way. Silence means there’s nothing for him to do but think about strange hands roaming over his body and a gruff voice whispering in his ear. The words of his attacker already seem to be echoing off of off-white walls that remind him of his hospital room, and he wonders if it makes him sick to wish he was back at Mercy General because at least it would mean he didn’t feel uncomfortable in his own apartment. 

_Open that pretty mouth for me._

Is he angry? Disappointed? Maybe it’s a little bit of both because this is where he’s supposed to come to feel safe. This is where Sonny and Rafael have been building a life together, and he feels betrayed that it wouldn’t instill some new sense of life into him now. 

All of this still feels like some kind of terrible nightmare, like it’s not actually happening and if it is, it’s really just happening to someone else. It’s not real, Sonny’s not walking on eggshells while scrambling to figure out how the hell he should be handling this, he’s not lecturing himself for not doing a better job. 

Except that’s exactly what Sonny is doing. 

He should be better at this, not because he works in sex crimes but because he’s Rafael’s boyfriend. How could he not instinctively know what Rafael wants, what Rafael needs? How is it possible that he can look at Rafael looking so lost in their home and not be able to come up with a single word of comfort?

Because Rafael hates empty platitudes, a small voice in the back of his mind reminds him. Sonny can alleviate his own guilt but not ease Rafael’s suffering. It’s twisted, he hates that. 

The quiet lasts all the way to the bedroom as Sonny slowly, carefully leads Rafael there. It’s a simple path from the front door that would’ve taken either one of them less than thirty seconds to cross. Now, with Rafael’s breaths coming more shallowly with every next step, it takes a few minutes because after each wince of pain he catches, Sonny stops to let Rafael take a break.

It’s hard to say which injury is worst but there’s no doubt the pain in his ribs is hitting Rafael hardest, at least for the time being. This isn’t his first black eye, not his first time being used as a punching bag, not even his first broken rib or wrist; but it’s never happened like this. It’s never happened as a result of begging for it to stop, forced to his knees and shaking with the kind of icy cold terror Rafael hasn’t known before because he’d never once, in all his years working sex crime cases, expected this to happen to him. With his father, the beatings had stopped coming as a surprise. Hiding bruises had become commonplace, so had lying to skeptical doctors and teachers and his mother’s friends who’d all seemed to care but not to the point that they’d voluntarily step in to do something. He doesn’t blame them, doesn’t blame his mother for not being able to find a way to make it stop; but he still carries with him the resentment of _their_ resentment for Rafael having found his own way out of the Bronx. 

With a sudden lump forming in his throat, Rafael wishes his _abuelita_ were here. She would have loved Sonny, would have loved to know how well taken care of Rafael is now. If she were here, she’d already be heating up the stove to cook something up for him, to make sure he’s fed because that’s just what she’s always done, kept him well-fed and well-loved. His grandmother had always wanted the best for him, always. It still keeps him up some nights to remember the last time they’d spoken, she’d been so angry with him. He talks to her in his sleep sometimes, Sonny has told him, occasionally offering apologies but mostly telling her he loves her and that she needs to meet his Sonny, his _rayo de sol_.

That’s the only thing that keeps him willing to stay upright now, Sonny and his warmth and the promise of at least some small bit of relief once they manage to reach their bed. 

When they do get there, Sonny guides Rafael down on the edge of the mattress, lowering himself to his knees and gently nudging Rafael's legs apart so he can inch between them. He searches Rafael’s face, resting his hands on his boyfriend's thighs, trying his best to mask his concern. Sonny isn’t sure why he’s bothering, not when there’s no real way he can pretend he’s not so worried and heartbroken at the sight of Rafael’s pain that it’s making his head spin. “Tell me what you need.”

"Nothing," Rafael says. His tone is empty, purposefully so. It’s an obvious lie. 

He wants nothing more than to melt into Sonny's embrace, to let go of everything he's been holding in all night because he’s lost track of time but he’s sure the sun will be up soon and he's supposed to be sleeping so he can get up to get back to work but instead, he's here, stuck inside of this new spiraling hell. This thing, this awful thing had happened to him, and it isn't something Rafael can just brush off like he’d learned to do after another bad encounter with his father. It isn't something that will just go away, not something he can bury. Still, he's not ready to break down quite yet, either. That’s coming, he can feel it building inside of him, inside his chest. He can feel the occasional spike of panic that hits him like another kick to the gut, the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him, the dryness in his mouth. Something holds him back, something he can't explain, even though he wills it to get out of his way. 

Somewhere deep inside him, he still feels like he needs to be strong through this all, if only to relieve some of the burden it's going to put on Sonny's shoulders. There's a hint of a migraine at his temple, the right side, where his bruise has been throbbing since he'd woken up to bright lights and professionally kind faces. Rafael's brow knits, and he nearly raises a hand to press against his head until he remembers there's a cast that prevents him for doing that, and he absently makes a mental reminder to ask Sonny for the discharge papers later. He wants to read through them, see what's been documented and if there's anything missing. Thinking like a counselor, but Rafael can't help it. That's who he is.

That's who he is. Still Rafael Barba, Assistant District Attorney for the Manhattan D.A.'s office. He's still whole, still functioning, still alive, even if he does feel like he may never be the same again. 

"You have a headache?"

Sonny's gentle voice interrupts Rafael's thoughts and for a second too long, he's irritated by it. "I'm fine," Rafael answers through gritted teeth, and it's only then that Sonny finally lets out a drawn-out, heavy sigh.

The silence is better, Rafael thinks. It’s better than the heavy weight of knowing he’s becoming a burden.

"You’re not.”

“Yes. I am.”

“ _Nopalito_...”

Rafael scowls at the nickname, the one Sonny usually reserves to get a rise out of him, which always results in Rafael turning to putty in his partner’s hands. “That’s not fair. I said I’m fine, I’m telling you I’m fine, so I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to pretend. It’s just you and me. Tell me what you need, talk to me.”

There's urgency and an edge of hurt in Sonny's tone that Rafael can't ignore, and he finally looks up to meet his partner's eyes, exasperated.

"What do you want me to say? I'm exhausted, I'm in pain, every single part of my body is achy and stiff, I'm miserable, and some guy tried to shove his dick in my mouth." He ignores the way Sonny flinches at that, physically recoils like Rafael has dealt him a blow, but Rafael doesn't back off. If Sonny wants him to talk, he'll talk. "You want me to say I'm not okay? Fine. You're right, you win. I'm not okay. Run a victory lap because you got it out of me, _I'm not okay_. I keep thinking about it and thinking about it, I keep trying to fill in the blanks for the things I don't remember, and I don't want to be doing any of that but it is what it is, right? It happened. It happened to me."

He’s out of breath by the time he’s done, drawing in deep gulps of air that set off a series of coughs that set fire to his ribs. Sonny’s there, all hands rubbing over his shoulders and apologies, but Rafael doesn’t want to hear “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t want any of this.

It was never supposed to happen to him, but Rafael doesn't say that because he knows how sick it sounds, how selfish. Nobody should be put through something like this, and he tries to calm himself by remembering that it could have been much worse. If that bartender hadn't come outside, he might not be here right now, or he might have to be dealing with more than just a close call, but knowing that doesn't actually help. He isn’t sure how he could have expected it to, but he supposes he’ll try anything at this point, anything to ease the lingering fear and pain and unlocked anger. 

"I do have a headache," Rafael mutters once the pain has eased, letting his shoulders fall in defeat then running his hand gingerly through his hair. 

It's getting long, he thinks, he should cut it. 

He'd thought the same thing this morning when Sonny had been threading fingers through salt and pepper strands before they'd had to force themselves out of bed. It'd seemed more important then, arguing with Sonny over the merits of a fresh haircut. _Then_ , as if it’d been so long ago and not less than twenty-four hours. Sonny likes it better a little longer, he likes the way it swoops when Rafael gels it, but Rafael had teased that he only likes it because it practically becomes a mirror image of Sonny's own hair. 

"It's bad enough we wear each other's clothes to work on the days you make me late," Rafael had said, grinning up at Sonny, their images in the bathroom mirror distorted between streaks in the steam from their shared shower. "When people start noticing we style our hair the same way, too, they won't let us live it down."

Rafael wishes now that they'd never left the comfort of their sheets, of the mattress they’d picked out together. It's a Sleep Number bed, the one that allows both of them to adjust it to their liking. They'd chosen it when they'd made the decision to move Sonny into the apartment because Rafael prefers his mattress a little firmer, Sonny a little softer, and isn’t it so nice to be able to compromise? It helps, too, for the days when Sonny's shift starts at a drastically different time than Rafael's. Like today. Yesterday. Whatever day it is now. Rafael feels worn out, used up, useless, and he hates that almost as much as he hates the tears born of frustration welling in his eyes. 

"It's all I've been doing,” he says, “talking about it. I don't want that right now, not here, not with you." Rafael lifts his eyes, still wet with unshed tears that neither of them is going to point out, to meet Sonny's. He shakes his head, just slightly, begging without begging, though his voice softens to nearly a whisper. "Please, Sonny."

Sonny states for a long, unbearably silent moment before moving to sit at Rafael's left on the bed. His knee brushes his boyfriend's, their shared gaze holds steady, and Sonny reaches out to gently take Rafael's good hand in his. "I'm sorry," Sonny murmurs. "I'm sorry, I'm just-- I look at what that son of a bitch did to you, and I get angry all over again. I'd wring his neck if I could, I want to do that so bad, but there's that bigger part of me that just wants to hold you. I want to promise you everything's going to be okay, but I can't 'cause it's not. Not yet. But it's like I said, it’s you and me. I know you, and I know the hurt you're feeling isn't just on the outside. Just let me take care of you, sweetheart. Let me do what I do best, let me love you."

It’s everything Rafael wants, but he can only nod, eyes lowering down to where his hand is nestled within Sonny’s. “I’ll try. I’m trying.”

“I know you are. Do you want to take a shower? Bath, maybe? I can start the tub for you.”

“Don’t go,” Rafael pleads, gripping Sonny’s hand harder. 

“Okay, Raf, okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Sonny promises. He finds a gray patch in Rafael’s hair, just above his left ear, and presses his lips against it. “I’m right here with you.” He feels Rafael relax against him and lifts a hand to his boyfriend’s chest, feeling for the steady heartbeat. Rafael is still breathing. The love of his life is alive. In this the moment, that’s what matters. Everything else, they’ll deal with together. “We’ll get through this. I’m going to help you get through this.”

“I believe you,” Rafael murmurs. “You asked me what I need. It’s this. You. That’s all.”

“You’ve got me, always. Listen, I’m going to be just a minute, okay? You need to take your meds, I’m going to get you a glass of water. I could make you something to eat.” 

Anything, he’ll do anything, just to spare Rafael a mere few seconds of misery, but Rafael shakes his head again.

“I just want to try to sleep. It hurts to move.”

“We can take care of that.” Eager to fix at least one thing, at least temporarily, Sonny rises to his feet, pressing another kiss to Rafael’s hair before rushing off to the kitchen. 

Rafael barely has time to consider how long he’s been gone before Sonny’s back in the room, the promised glass of water in one hand and Vicodin in the other. 

"We should get you out of those scrubs, too," Sonny says, plucking at a pale green sleeve as Rafael swallows down the pill. "I just washed my Fordham shirt, the really soft one, it's got your name written all over it."

Rafael nods, humming, the only sign that he’s favorable to the idea. He lets Sonny help him get the scrub top off without any arguments, hesitating only when Sonny moves to help him get the pants off, too. 

"Hey, it's okay," Sonny tells him, resting a hand on Rafael's bare shoulder. He feels goosebumps rise under his fingers and gives the shoulder a squeeze. “Take your time. I’ll get you the shirt, some sweats. There’s no rush.”

He turns away before Rafael can say anything, unbuttoning his own shirt as he does so he can change, too. Sonny doesn't anticipate that they'll be leaving the apartment anytime soon, which is fine by him. The fridge is stocked because they'd just had the chance to go grocery shopping a couple days ago on a rare shared afternoon off and there are leftovers from the lasagna Sonny had made that same night. It feels like so long ago now, like a completely different life they'd been living, and it occurs to him that in a way, that's true. Nothing can ever be the same anymore, no matter how hard they try. That doesn't mean letting what'd happened define them, not individually or as a couple, but this isn't just an incident that will eventually be forgotten but for those inevitable down-the-road reminders. This is going to stick. 

By the time he's changed into one of Rafael's Harvard shirts, which does fit even though it's a little snugger than he'd maybe like to admit, and a pair of his own boxers, Sonny is pleased to see that Rafael has managed to remove his pants. It leaves his boyfriend naked and looking vaguely ashamed, one hand modestly draped over his groin, but Sonny doesn't draw attention to it. He isn’t sure whether plastering on his best reassuring smile is helpful, Rafael’s face doesn’t change much while Sonny helps him get redressed, but maybe that’s the Vicodin. Maybe Sonny hopes that’s the Vicodin. 

“I’m going to have to wake you every couple hours because of the concussion,” he says, fighting the urge to cringe at himself, for the far too casual way he’d thrown that out there. It’s a fact, one they’re both painfully aware of, but it’s like this is what passes for casual discussion this evening. His stomach is in knots, he wishes he’d thought to get a glass of water for himself, too, but it’s too late now. There’s no way he’s leaving Rafael’s side again.

“I know. It’s okay.” Rafael hesitates, glancing at his partner. “Lie down with me?”

Getting settled proves to be a somewhat difficult task. The increasingly glassy look in Rafael’s eyes tells Sonny that the meds are starting to work but that doesn’t stop the occasional whimper of pain to escape his boyfriend while they both shift to find just the right position. It eventually results in Rafael lying on his left side, taking the pressure off his broken ribs and wrist, his head resting against Sonny’s chest and a pillow between Rafael’s knees. Sonny’s arm curls around Rafael, his fingers brushing over soft skin in mindless patterns, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s just like any other night. Instead, he turns on the TV to find something mindless that can be left on in the background to hopefully lull them both to sleep, alarms already set for two-hour intervals. 

Tomorrow is going to be hell but if Rafael can get through a few hours of deep sleep total at all, Sonny will consider it a victory. He isn’t sure whether sleep will come easily for himself, not when there’s already fear rooting itself deep inside of him that he might turn the wrong way or accidentally jab Rafael with a stray knee or elbow or wake up in a panic to the sound of his boyfriend reacting to a nightmare. He’s worried he’ll aggravate injuries that shouldn't be there, wouldn't be there if Sonny had been there, and he knows Rafael would hate to be thought of as that fragile but he can’t help it. 

He's about to admit as much when he hears a light snoring, the snoring Rafael insists doesn't ever come from him, even though Sonny had once gone so far as recording it to prove his boyfriend wrong.

_"Who else would it be, Raf? Seriously?"_  
"Your other lover, maybe, how should I know? I wouldn't submit it as evidence in a courtroom setting, that's all I'm saying."  
"You’re impossible, you know that?"  
"I do know that. But you love me, anyway." 

Yes, Sonny loves Rafael, more than he's ever loved anyone else who's been in his life. He would do anything, absolutely anything to keep this man safe and had felt that way long before they'd even shared their first kiss. 

It'd been raining that night, he allows himself a smile at remembering it. They'd both been a little giddy from a win in court and a few celebratory tequila shots that had been Rafael's idea. Sonny had left his keys with the bartender, Rafael had suggested they walk together until he could find an Uber suitably nearby, and even then, it'd sounded like a weird excuse. Rafael had never found that Uber, but he hadn't actually been looking. Instead, they'd ducked into a busy 24-hour Korean barbeque place, secured a corner table, and talked over all-you-can-eat meat and kimchi until neither of them could justify staying out any later. 

The kiss had come just outside Rafael's building, a quick one, essentially a peck, that Rafael had initiated and just as quickly, he'd turned on his heels to march inside. Sonny had been left frozen, staring after the ADA and wondering what the hell it meant and how he was supposed to act about it the next day until Rafael had looked over his shoulder with an impatient expression but a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Are you coming up with me or not, Detective?”

Sonny’s smile fades with the memory, reality coming back into focus. The bruises are barely visible under the glow of the television, but Sonny knows they’ll look worse in the morning. Biting down hard on his lip, his eyes find the ceiling, searching for what he believes in his heart is beyond it.

“If you’re listening, I wanna make a deal,” he says, keeping his voice set to a near whisper. “I’ll do better, I swear. I’ll be better. Just don’t hurt him again. Please, God, I’m begging you, I’d do anything. If you need to punish someone, punish me, I can take it. Don’t hurt him again.”

He startles when the alarm sounds, stunned still for a second at how much time had apparently passed by without his realizing it at all. Sonny’s quick to turn it off and Rafael stirs in his arms, groaning a little as he blearily blinks his eyes open. It doesn’t take him long to focus his vision, which Sonny supposes is a good enough first sign.

“I’m sorry,” Sonny says, brushing the tip of his nose against Rafael’s cheek. “How’s your head, how do you feel?”

Rafael grimaces, rolling his eyes, though it costs him a burst of pain. “Like a million bucks,” he says dryly. “How do you think I feel?”

“Sarcasm still perfectly intact, noted.”

Licking dry lips, Rafael does his own set of testing. Everything he’d remembered prior to falling asleep, he still remembers. The pain is still manageable, he doesn’t feel dizzy or like he wants to vomit, he doesn’t feel any foggier in his mind than he’d expected to be. 

“I’m okay,” he says once he’s completed his self-assessment. “I promise I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Sonny studies him but not for longer than a beat. “Okay. You think you can get back to sleep?”

Rafael isn’t sure if he wants that. It’d been a surprisingly restful couple hours but that doesn’t mean any other sleep he might be able to fit in will stay that way. The next time he closes his eyes, he might see the face of his attacker again, a fist coming right at him, a man who isn’t Sonny exposing himself and demanding to be touched.

“Rafael?” Sonny’s fingertips trace lightly over the curve of Rafael’s bruised jaw. “I’m right here.”

“Do you think I should’ve fought harder?” Rafael asks, the words coming a little slurred. He hadn’t meant to voice the thought out loud. He’s grateful that the room is dark but for the light of the TV because his cheeks flush, and he wonders if Sonny can feel the heat radiating against him. “I mean, do you think people will say I should’ve fought harder? Known better? Done more?”

Of course they will. He’s an ADA who handles sex crime cases every single day, how could he not have seen the signs of what was coming? It seems suspicious, they’ll say, that he only managed to scratch his attacker. Maybe he’d wanted it after all, maybe he’s just embarrassed because it would be cheating, after all, to be caught getting groped in an alley. The injuries? Oh, well, he shouldn’t have changed his mind halfway through, it’s understandable that the other man involved would’ve gotten angry and weren’t they at a bar?

“Hey.” Sonny’s soft yet stern voice brings him out of creating scenarios Rafael knows are unlikely, even if they are still entirely possible. They’ve both seen worse backlash against victims. “This isn’t your fault.”

“The party line, right?”

“We mean it when we say it, don’t we?”

Sonny’s got a point there. That doesn’t make it any more convincing.

“I keep thinking, if nobody had walked out that door, he would’ve done it. He would’ve raped me. I knew it then, too, and I just froze.”

“Nobody ever really knows how they’ll react in a situation like this. We both know that. But you did fight, Rafael. You refused, you said no. You said no. Anything past that is entirely on him, and he’ll pay for it. He doesn’t get to hurt you and get away with it.”

They don’t even know who _he_ is yet, there’s no guarantee Rafael will remember his name or that anyone from the bar will have recognized him. The guy could get away with it, that possibility is the closest thing to reality with the information they have, and Sonny would tell him not to give up yet but Rafael would rather be prepared than not. Either way, whether they catch up with the guy or not, he’ll remain a stain of a memory for the rest of Rafael’s life. So who’s really paying for it?

“I can still feel his hands on me.” 

Rafael can still taste him, that hint of bourbon on an unwelcome, slippery tongue. Something warm slips down his cheek and for a split second, he’s back in that alley, bringing a trembling hand up to his face to find it smeared with his own blood. What he sees, what he remembers, it comes to him in flashes. Rafael isn’t even certain of what’s real or imagined anymore, but he remembers the break of his wrist and the crack of his head against brick wall and that godforsaken taste of bourbon. 

_Open that pretty mouth for me._

It’s not blood on his cheek now. These are tears, hot tears that have finally won against Rafael’s desire to keep them at bay. The bedsheets are fresh, they’d changed them just a couple days ago, Rafael’s side of the bed is adjusted just the way he likes it, and the television is on low with some ridiculous infomercial they've fallen asleep to a dozen times playing on repeat. The familiarity brings him no comfort, it leaves him feeling just as empty as when he’d first walked through the door, and he clutches at Sonny’s shirt as he lets out his first shuddering sob.

Sonny doesn’t shush him, doesn’t whisper sweet nothings in his ear. He realizes he’d been expecting this from the moment they’d walked through, had been waiting for it, and now that it’s happened, he feels both ready and woefully useless. All he does is hold Rafael close to him, his eyes focused on nothing because he’s certain if he lets himself be present in this moment, if he even lets himself breathe, he’ll fall apart, too. That’s not an option, that’s not something he’ll let himself do, it’s not something he’s allowed to do. He can hear the hitches in Rafael’s breath, the pain in each gasp for air, the struggle to regain some small sense of composure. Sonny searches for the right words but can’t come up with a single one because there’s nothing to say that could truly help, nothing he can do but _be here_ , and he’s not used to that. He’s not used to doing nothing when it comes to taking care of the people he loves.

So while Rafael cries, Sonny thinks of what he can do, what he’ll need to do tomorrow.

They’re supposed to get lunch with Gina on Thursday, he’ll have to reschedule. There’s a Mets game on that day, too, but he needs to make an appointment for Rafael to get in for a follow-up at the hospital. Lucia-- _god, Lucia_ \--can’t find out about this on the news or she’ll kill them both, Sonny will have to call her in the morning. Carmen, too, she needs to know and Sonny doesn’t want her to have to hear it from anyone else, either. That’s already a full morning’s worth of tasks, he just hopes Rafael will be able to sleep through it all because he doesn’t relish the potential added bonus of having to force his boyfriend to eat something with his meds like he’s a child.

By the time Sonny is satisfied with his list for the start of the next day, Rafael’s breathing has steadied again. Neither of them keeps track of how long it takes for the tears to subside. Time doesn’t seem to matter much, that’s been true for Rafael since he’d been transported to the hospital. He’s carried out the rest of his evening in two states upon regaining consciousness: in pain and in less pain. It hurts to take deep breaths but it feels good to be held. Pain and less pain. This will be his life for the foreseeable future.

“Tell me something good,” he says. “ _Quiero escuchar tu voz_.”

“Something good, huh?” Sonny clicks his tongue thoughtfully, nodding his head once he seems to have picked something he likes “Yeah, okay. Remember the first time we met?” At Rafael’s hum, a light, happy hum at whatever memory is floating through that beautiful head, Sonny smiles. “You were wearing that suit, the beige one.”

“Cream,” Rafael corrects, and he sounds tired but Sonny can hear a smile in his voice for the first time all night. “You had that mustache. Made you look like you just walked out of _Magnum P.I._ ”

“Hey, I looked good with that mustache, it’s not my fault nobody could appreciate it.”

“I liked it.”

Sonny tilts his head down, craning his neck with an arched brow and a small smirk to see if Rafael is just mocking him but there’s no trace of teasing in his boyfriend’s face. Rafael’s eyes are closed, the lines on his face have smoothed, and there’s the slightest hint of dimples playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wow, the meds made you soft, babe. I’m not going to forget you said that.”

“Mm, I think I can deal with that.”

“You know, I saw you that day and I swear, it’s like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. I’d never seen anyone more gorgeous in my life. Still haven’t.”

There’s a beat of silence that makes Sonny think Rafael might have fallen back asleep but then Rafael is looking up at him with sad eyes and a frown. “Even like this? You still think that?”

Sonny blinks, his stomach suddenly doing somersaults because he hadn’t expected the question, he hasn’t expected the fresh wave of guilt that’s come with it. “Oh, Rafael. Yes, of course, even like this. Always. I fell in love with you that day, and I haven’t stopped loving you for a second, even if it took us both a little while to play catch up.”

For a moment, Rafael just looks at him, their gazes holding steady while someone speaks aggressively positively about knives that can cut through pennies in the background. Then he lets his eyes flutter back shut, a small, near content sigh escaping him. “I’m all caught up. I love you.”

Sonny holds Rafael just a little closer, squeezes him just a little tighter. He gives Rafael's forehead a light kiss, smiling slightly when his boyfriend seems to lean into the touch then settles again, the snores returning. 

"I love you, Raf, and I promise to God, I'm never letting anything like this happen to you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love that's being shown for this story, I really do appreciate the kudos and comments every single time I get a notif about them. I love hearing what you think, it's always the most rewarding thing to get a response from wonderful people like you who take the time to read what I've written. 
> 
> I'll be getting more into the case from this point, but this story primarily remains about the love between Sonny and Rafael and their relationships with the people in their lives. We'll see Rita, Carmen, Lucia, the Carisi sisters, and of course, more of the squad. I wrote this because I wanted to explore those dynamics that we never did get to see enough of on the show itself and if ever you have an idea for a scene you think you might like to see between a particular set of characters, let me know. It might spark an idea ^___^ 
> 
> FTR, you can always find me at [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rawreesparza) and [Tumblr](http://rawresparza.tumblr.com/) where my DMs/inbox are always open!


	4. you're one room right over, stressing and loving me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because I forgot the word,” Rafael snaps. “Okay? You asked me what I wanted, I wanted toast, I forgot the damn word.” Just for a couple seconds, but it’d been enough and now Rafael’s head feels like it’s being split open, like his frustration is translating directly into physical pain.
> 
> Sonny is immediately back at his side, peering briefly at the gauze covering the stitches at the back of his head then smoothing down stray hairs. “Take a breath for me.”
> 
> Rafael does, as deep a breath as he can manage without straining his ribs again too badly, and as he lets the air rush out of him, he feels any little bit of energy he might have had leave with it. With a groan, he rests his cheek against Sonny’s shoulder, grateful when Sonny instinctively wraps him into protective arms. “The doctor said it might happen. He said not to worry. It’s one word, that’s it, but I’m worrying.”

When Rafael wakes up, he’s alone in bed. 

The panic comes before the pain, the pain comes after he scrambles upright, groping Sonny’s side of the bed with his injured hand like he might find something in his partner’s absence. The strain against his ribs is sharp, piercing, it takes his breath away, and he doubles over until his forehead touches the mattress, muffling his whimpers against the inside of his arm. 

There’s a clock hanging above the door frame, a sleek one with golden Roman numbers confined within a black circle. Rafael tries to count the ticks, to focus on them like he’s focused on the tiles on the hospital ceiling. He loses track after ten. He bunches the sheets in his working fist, fighting tears as best he can until the deep ache subsides and he can find a way to breathe again. 

When he finally manages to push himself back up, it’s with a trembling hand to steady himself and a guardedness that makes his skin feel tight around his bones. 

The room, aside from that ticking clock, is too quiet. There’s no other form of distraction, except for the TV he doesn’t want to and probably shouldn't switch on, or maybe the fact that Sonny’s phone is missing and the door to the bedroom has been left just slightly ajar. Rafael swallows hard, glancing at the nightstand on his side of the bed. He doesn’t remember plugging his phone in, but Sonny must have done it for him because there it is, alongside a glass of water and a pill laid out on Kleenex. 

With some effort, Rafael reaches for his phone, ignoring the medication for the time being. He taps the home button and is more surprised than he supposes he should be when he sees the number of notifications waiting for him: several missed calls from his boss and Dodds, a string of texts from Liv and Carmen, even one each from Amanda and Fin. 

“If you need anything” seems to be the phrase of the day. Rafael doesn’t know what he needs. 

There’s nothing, he notices, from any of the Carisis or his mother. They haven’t been told yet. Knowing that brings Rafael a small bit of relief and then he wonders whether that’s strange.

“ _No, you can’t come over!_ ”

Sonny’s voice startles him but it makes Rafael forget about the mess of calls and texts on his phone. It’ll earn him a lecture, he’s sure, leaving the Vicodin behind in favor of getting out of bed, where he’s not willing to stay. He’s never liked being home when he has to be home, that’s why getting sick has never been an option. Lying in bed with Sonny on a shared day off, that’s different, that’s a choice; but to be _instructed_ to stay on bedrest, that’s somehow infuriating and always has been. 

There’s a reason he shouldn’t be up and walking right now, of course. It’s a struggle. Every step, every breath, it’s all a struggle, and he wraps his arm over his abdomen as if that would act as armor, as if that would help, as if it would somehow mask his labored breathing. It doesn’t give him the strength he’d hoped for, but that hardly comes as a shock. He hadn’t even been able to find the strength to protect himself last night, how the hell does he expect to handle any of this now? If waking up alone had nearly sent him into a panicked frenzy, Rafael can’t imagine how he’ll react when Sonny inevitably has to leave the apartment and he's left alone. 

By the time he steps out of the bedroom, he’s sweating. He pauses to rest against the door frame, wiping his forehead against his shoulder. Sonny’s Fordham shirt had smelled like Downey last night, still fresh from being laundered, but it’ll need a new wash. It’d been soaked through overnight, even if Rafael doesn’t remember having anything resembling a nightmare. 

“Yeah,” Sonny is saying. He’s in the kitchen, Rafael can hear him more clearly now. “Yeah, I mean, he’s hurtin’, Bells. He’s going to be in a lot of pain for awhile, and I can’t do anything about it, y’know? I know. I know, I know, of course I’ll be here for him, I just—” At the sound of shuffling footsteps, Sonny glances up and smiles. “Hey, babe, hold on a— wait, no, what are you doing up?” He’s quick to shift the smile into a worried frown, the crease in his forehead returning, to Rafael’s dismay. “Bella, I gotta go, okay? No, I gotta go. _Yes_ , I’ll tell him. I’ll call you later.”

Rafael doubts Bella had even been able to get in a goodbye before Sonny hangs up the phone and crosses the small gap between them, tossing the phone aside on the kitchen counter on the way. 

“Who was that on the phone?” he asks with a forced, wry smile. 

Sonny ignores the question, his voice softening as both hands come to rest on either of Rafael’s hips. “You should be in bed. If you need something, I can bring it to you, what do you need?”

Rafael hesitates, his stomach twisting into knots at the way Sonny is looking at him, all worry and no familiar brightness in those blue eyes. What does it mean about him, that he already feels humiliated over the mere thought of admitting to someone he loves that he simply hadn’t wanted to be alone? “You were in _here_.”

That seems to catch Sonny off-guard and the room goes silent but for the honking outside their window that barely even registers anymore. If anything, it’s the most normal part of the morning so far. There’s a stream of light coming in through the kitchen, a single ray that shines over a small potted dwarf chin cactus on the windowsill. A healthy pair of flowers with bright pink blossoms had bloomed from it a few months ago, adding a welcome dose of color to the otherwise cool color scheme of their kitchen. Sonny had brought it home one day with a broad grin on his face, looking all too proud of himself as he’d exclaimed, “ _Nopalito_! Look, it’s you!”

Prickly and difficult to approach but still beautiful. That’s how Sonny had described him once. Rafael focuses his eyes on the cactus now, contemplating what they’ll do with it once the beauty’s worn itself out and all that’s left is an unwelcoming exterior. 

God, he thinks, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours but he already feels like he might never be whole again.

“Rafael?”

His own name startles him. It takes him back, just for a second, to a low growl in a dark alley before rough lips had pressed against his, teeth clashing, smothering Rafael’s attempt to say, “ _Stop_!”

He slips out of Sonny’s hold on him, cringing at the way it makes his ribs ache again just to turn his body, and takes a few aimless steps toward the living room. “I’m fine,” he says, only lifting his eyes to meet Sonny’s when his partner doesn’t answer him. 

That’s what Sonny had been waiting for, that’s what he’d wanted, for Rafael to look at him so he could get at least the slightest sense of what might be going through his boyfriend’s mind. It’s more crushing than he’d anticipated realizing he still has absolutely no idea. “I, um— I actually asked you what you wanted for breakfast, sweetheart.”

Confusion briefly clouds Rafael’s eyes over, followed in quick succession by frustration and a sneer born of irritation, a look Sonny knows too well. 

“Nothing.”

Sonny’s fingers twitch at his side. “I could make you some eggs. Think we’ve still got some bacon left, too.”

“No.”

“Okay, that’s fine, how about some pancakes? Maybe dust off the waffle maker.”

Rafael’s chin lifts, almost defiantly. Sonny can’t figure out why. “I’m not hungry.”

Sonny bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping. Patience, he reminds himself, this is going to take patience and that’s the least of what Rafael deserves after what he’d been through last night. “You need to eat something with that medication.”

“Well, maybe I just won’t take the medication, if that’s what it’s going to take to get you to stop nagging me.”

An exasperated, humorless laugh escapes Sonny before he can stop it. “You’re really going to stand there and fight with me over this? You could cut me a little slack, I’m trying to help.”

“ _Toast_.”

“What?”

“Toast. Toast, toast, that’s all I wanted, a piece of fucking toast.”

“Why didn’t you just—”

“Because I forgot the word,” Rafael snaps. “Okay? You asked me what I wanted, I wanted toast, I forgot the damn word.” Just for a couple seconds, but it’d been enough and now Rafael’s head feels like it’s being split open, like his frustration is translating directly into physical pain. 

Sonny is immediately back at his side, peering briefly at the gauze covering the stitches at the back of his head then smoothing down stray hairs. “Take a breath for me.”

Rafael does, as deep a breath as he can manage without straining his ribs again too badly, and as he lets the air rush out of him, he feels any little bit of energy he might have had leave with it. With a groan, he rests his cheek against Sonny’s shoulder, grateful when Sonny instinctively wraps him into protective arms. “The doctor said it might happen. He said not to worry. It’s one word, that’s it, but I’m worrying.”

“I know, Raf. I’m going to be worrying until you’re all healed up, but I need to know you’ll be honest with me about the things you’re feeling. If it gets harder to find words or if you’re dizzy or anything like that, you need to tell me because I don’t think I’ll be able to deal with walking back into our room to find you passed out on the floor.”

“I’ll tell you,” Rafael promises. 

“Okay.” Sonny studies him for a moment, taking stock of the way the bruises look in the daylight, then presses a soft kiss to Rafael’s forehead. “So toast, we can do toast. Did you take the Vicodin already?”

“I left it on the nightstand,” Rafael mumbles. 

“I’ll get it for you,” Sonny tells him, guiding his boyfriend to the couch, careful as he lowers Rafael down. “Just hang here for a bit, don’t move.”

“Sonny.” Rafael tugs on his partner’s hand before Sonny gone move too far away, earning a curious look laced with worry. “Does anyone else know?”

Sonny briefly lowers his gaze to the floor between them, a flash of guilt clouding over his expression as he studies the finished wood paneling at their feet. He hadn’t thought twice when he’d dialed Bella’s number earlier but he’s having second thoughts now, like maybe he should have asked Rafael for permission to tell her. “No, nobody else. The plan was to call Carmen, then your mom, then cancel our lunch plans with Gina tomorrow.” He pauses, glancing back up at Rafael, who’s watching him with tense expectation. “Bella wanted me to tell you she loves you and she’s thinking about you.”

It’s like a punch to his own gut to see the tears well in Rafael’s eyes. They don’t fall, Rafael only clears his throat and nods before letting go of Sonny’s hand.

“Say thanks for me,” he says, leaning back against the couch.

His eyes find the blank television screen, expression turning vacant, even though the fingers of his injured hand are weakly flexing in his lap. Sonny takes it as his cue to walk away.

\--

The car ride from the precinct to Whiskey Tavern is silent, for the most part. Amanda spends the majority of the time staring out the window, seeing but not _seeing_ the people they pass on the street, all of them carrying on with their lives like none of them have a care in the world, like they’re so certain nothing’s going to disrupt their day. 

She envies them. A part of her sometimes wishes she could go back to being one of them, even if she’d never actually choose to do that. This job, this career she’d picked, it’s in her blood now. It’s part of her, it’s not something she could ever voluntarily walk away from at this point. 

Still, it’s always that much harder when one of their own is a victim, and Barba _is_ one of their own.

Amanda had thought about it all night after getting home: Barba’s limp, his bruises, the cast on his wrist, the blank look in his eyes. She’s afraid the next time she sees him, he’ll look that much more haunted. Damaged. It’s the way she remembers looking and feeling after her own attack. Looking at herself in the mirror had sent her to her knees more than once. Hearing the details from Liv had nearly made her sick, the only reason she thinks she’d been able to keep from doubling over is seeing Fin maintain every ounce of his composure. 

It’s not that he doesn’t care, Amanda knows that, but they can’t do anything about it now except try to get Barba the justice he deserves. They have a job to do. That comes first, their personal feelings for Barba and Sonny, that part has to wait.

“Do we want to canvass first or see if we can find the bartender who was working last night?”

Fin’s voice is soothing to her, it always has been. They’d more or less already come up with a game playing n so she knows this is mostly just for distraction, and Amanda sends a tight smile his way.

“Check on the bartender first,” she says, “see if he’s around, find out whether there’s any surveillance footage.”

“Sounds good to me,” Fin answers, pulling up to the curb just outside of Whiskey Tavern. He doesn’t get out of the car after turning off the ignition, just looks at her and tilts his head. “You okay?”

Amanda wrinkles her nose, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s weird.” That’s an oversimplification but it’s the only word she can come up with right now. It’s goddamn _weird_. “It’s Barba. You didn’t see him yet, he came in last night and it was like-- like he was a completely different person. He’s hurt bad, Fin.”

“Sounded like it, from what Liv was saying. He’ll be okay, we’ll catch the guy who did it.”

But what if Barba doesn’t end up okay? Amanda shakes her head, sighing. “What if we don’t? What if whoever did this just gets away with it?”

She thinks that’s what she fears most. It’s always an awful feeling when a perp gets to walk away, a failure that sticks with all of them, at least until their next win temporarily numbs the loss. She thinks of William Lewis and her skin crawls. 

“We can’t let that happen,” Fin says. “We won’t.” He’s usually more pragmatic that than but his tone doesn’t allow room for argument. It’s telling. 

“Yeah,” Amanda agrees softly. With a heavy sigh, she unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her door. “Come on, let’s try to get Barba some good news.”

\--

The second they walk into the place, Fin immediately understands why Barba might like it. The ambiance is right up the ADA’s alley, all dim lighting, even in the early afternoon, and the illusion of privacy between the polished, stained wood bar top and the main dining room. It’s almost like Forlini’s, just a little more upscale and with employees who offer much bigger and friendlier smiles than the ones they’d find at Barba’s usual haunt.

“Hi,” one hostess says, her platinum ponytail bouncing as she looks from Fin to Amanda then back. The nametag pinned over her heart on her black dress reads “Stacia,” and Stacia continues, “Table for two?”

Fin exchanges a glance with Amanda, who already looks tired of being here, then shakes his head at the hostess. “No, actually.” He flashes his badge, Amanda following suit, and Stacia’s eyes widen. “NYPD. We’re here about an incident that happened in the alley behind the restaurant last night.”

Looking flustered, Stacia practically spins on her heels, waving frantically at a man behind the bar. “Hey, Freddie,” she calls out in a stage whisper, “Freddie! NYPD wants to talk to you!”

_Freddie_ doesn’t look surprised to see them, and he observes Fin and Amanda with a wary expression before setting down the crystal champagne flute he’d been wiping clean so he can wave them over to the bar. “You here about Mr. Barba?” he asks, scrubbing a hand over a messy goatee. 

Fin can feel Amanda tense beside him, and she steps closer, resting her elbows on the bar. “That’s right. I’m Detective Tutuola, this is Detective Rollins, we’re with SVU.”

“SVU. Shit. Well, I figured someone would come around asking. Is he okay?”

Fin arches an eyebrow, less than impressed. “You were there, weren’t you? You saw what happened to him. Do you think he’s okay?”

Freddie grimaces. “Fair enough. He’s a nice guy, Mr. Barba. Always leaves me a good tip, even if he’s only in for one drink.”

“Tell us what you know.”

“Look, Mr. Barba was in here, he had one scotch with his steak and the next time I saw him after he paid his bill was when he already had the shit beat out of him in the back. I went to dump the trash and the guy with him was freaking out, you know? Holding his pants up and rambling about how someone tried to mug them.”

Amanda frowns, circling her finger in the air. “Wait, back up, he said they were both attacked?”

“Yeah. I didn’t see anyone else there or notice anyone run but it’s what he said. I didn’t bother with him after he bailed, Mr. Barba was passed out and hurt bad so I called for an ambulance and stayed there with him until it came. He didn’t wake up the whole time, couldn’t ask him anything about it.”

“Okay.” Amanda sighs, shrugging a shoulder helplessly at Fin before returning her attention to Freddie. “Could you tell us what the guy who ran looked like? Did he pay with a card, could you pull up slips from last night to try to get us a name?”

“Oh, I can tell you his name. I don’t need to pull up a credit card slip for that. It was Tom. Tom Whittaker.”

“Whittaker,” Fin echoes. The name sounds familiar, even feels familiar on his tongue, but he can’t quite place it. “Why do I know that name?”

“Because it’s plastered on the outside of a dozen hotels,” Amanda says, huffing a humorless laugh. “Whittaker Hotel & Suites, TJ Whittaker?”

“This is his son,” Freddie confirms. “Tom comes in every so often, spends most of his time flirting with customers and seeing who’ll go home with him. You didn’t hear that from me, by the way.” It’s the truth, and he wants to cooperate but even so, Freddie does pride himself on maintaining at least the illusion of discretion when it comes to big-spending regulars. “Actually, now that I think about it, he came in after Mr. Barba last night but sat next to him at the bar until Mr. Barba left. Tom ended up taking off a couple minutes after that.”

“Any video cameras that would’ve picked up what happened in the alley?” Fin asks. He can sense Amanda getting worked up beside him, her cheeks tinted pink and one foot tapping impatiently on the floor. A quick warning glance gets her to stop the tapping, at least, but the tight line her lips have pressed into doesn’t ease up at all. 

“No, man, sorry. Just at the entrance and in the kitchen. You could try a couple of the shops across the street, though, see if they happen to have anything angled our way.”

“We’ll do that,” Amanda says. She pulls her wallet from her pocket, fishing out a card with her name, phone number, and the address to the 16th printed on it then slides it over the bartop. “Listen, you’ve helped us out a lot but if there’s anything else you can think of that would be relevant or you hear anything about anyone seeing what happened--”

“I’ll call you.” Freddie nods, pocketing the card. “Will do, detectives.”

On their way out of the restaurant, Stacia doesn’t bother to offer them more than a strained smile this time around, and Fin examines Amanda’s expression as they walk back to the car before asking, “So what do you think?”

Amanda sighs. “I think we got lucky with the name but not with the guy. That family is loaded, Fin. _Loaded_. They’re going to put up a fight, no question, especially if Tom, Jr.’s saying he was attacked, too.”

Fin nods his agreement. “Yeah, well, we’re up for a fight, aren’t we? Liv and Carisi will be, too, for Barba. So what do you say we save the canvassing for later and do a little digging on our new friend Tom back at the precinct, fill Liv in on what we find out?”

With a slightly more relaxed smile, Amanda opens the passenger’s side door to their cruiser. “Lead the way, Sarge.”

—

Three hours after toast and medication, Rafael’s eyes blink open again, this time with Sonny’s fingers threading absently through his hair. His head is in his partner’s lap, and he can hear the low hum of the television, but his gaze doesn’t drift from Sonny’s currently blank face. It’s a groan that ultimately earns him a surprised look followed by dimples and a soft smile. 

“Hey, you. Was just about ready to wake you up.”

Right. They’re not out of the twenty-four hour period of making sure the concussion is worse than it is. At the very least, Rafael supposes they can consider it a good thing that the word “toast” briefly going missing from his vocabulary and the current splitting headache are his worst symptoms. 

“Head hurts,” he complains, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Worse than it did earlier.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Sonny says. Rafael catches a glimpse of that unwarranted guilt again, wishing he could find a way to make it stop. “We have to wait a little while before you can get your next dose of meds.” He brings his fingers to Rafael’s temples, gently rubbing them in small circles until his boyfriend lowers his own hand back down. “That help?”

“Mmm. Don’t stop.”

They carry on like that through the next five minutes of _Judge Judy_ , as Rafael comes to realize Sonny has been watching. It’s long enough for him to overanalyze their conversation from earlier this morning, to consider the fact that just because he has to be confined to the apartment doesn’t mean Sonny should feel obligated to do the same, and to eventually come to the conclusion that he should set aside his selfishness for a moment to offer his partner an out.

Besides, he thinks, it’s mutually beneficial overall if Sonny isn’t here all the time. It’ll keep Sonny from getting frustrated with him, thus keeping Rafael from feeling like too much of a burden, which will reduce the number of petty fights he can easily see in their future through all fault of his own. It’s _better_ if Sonny spends more time away from him than with him, he tries to convince himself. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or some bullshit like that.

“Did you make any more calls?” he asks, blinking his eyes back open.

“Nah, I didn’t want to move you when you were sleeping.” Rafael had looked peaceful again for the past couple hours and sure, his thighs are a little numb, but it’s the smallest price possible to pay to extend his boyfriend’s comfort. “I’ll do it later on.”

“You shouldn’t cancel with Gina.”

“What?” Sonny tilts his head, fixing Rafael with an unreadable expression. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you out of this apartment until we get you back in with the doctor, right? Speaking of which, I’ll have to make that appointment, too, the discharge papers recommend going back on Friday.”

“I can make my own appointments,” Rafael mutters. A piercing, sharp pain shooting through his head again makes him wince and seems to suggest otherwise. Sonny had paused the massaging but resumes it then. “And I can stay here by myself for a few hours, it’s not a big deal.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? Just _no_?”

“No. No, no, of course no, I’m not leaving you here alone when you’ve got a broken wrist, broken ribs, and stitches in your damn head, okay? Drop it.”

“She’s family.”

“You’re family. She’ll understand because _you’re_ family. Why are you pushing this?”

“I just-- I came close.”

“Came close to what?”

“Never getting to have lunch with you again.”

That brings Sonny to a full stop. The tip of his nose starts to tingle, he lifts his gaze to the ceiling so Rafael won’t see the way he knows his eyes have gone red because he can feel the sting of tears in them, and he has to bring a hand over his mouth to keep himself from letting out the distressed cry building in his throat. 

He’s been having similar thoughts all day. What if Rafael had hit his head a little harder, what if the lunatic who’d attacked him had come at him with a knife or gun, what if? Liv had told him last night to forget about the what ifs because they’d do him no good, but Sonny doesn’t see how he can do possibly do that. When he isn’t worrying about whether Rafael is comfortable or not, the what ifs are all he _can_ think about. 

“I’m sorry.”

Sonny blinks at the unexpected apology, realizing he’s been quiet for far too long, and he’s already shaking his head, dropping his hand back down to rest on Rafael’s belly. “No, don’t be,” he says, his thumb brushing gentle strokes over the worn Fordham shirt. “I’ve thought about that, too. I’ve thought about it before.” But he can’t think about the death threats right now, not on top of all of this. “We’ll probably both think about it for a long time. I don’t know how to make that better, Raf, I wish I could make it better.”

Rafael’s smile is small, wry. “You, being here with me now, it helps. I promise.” It may not fix anything, but it helps. Sonny’s presence always does. “Go to lunch with your sister. My mother’s going to want to come running the second we call her, I’ll tell her to come tomorrow while you’re out.”

It still doesn’t feel right, leaving so soon while Rafael is suffering, but if it’s what his boyfriend wants, Sonny is willing to bend. He has to admit, too, if it means less time spent with a Lucia who will undoubtedly be overbearing, he won’t necessarily be caught complaining. Besides, he still remembers being cursed at in Spanish for a solid five minutes when they’d finally told Lucia about the death threats… a year after the fact. Sonny does not want a repeat of that. 

“Okay,” he finally concedes, leaning down to kiss Rafael’s forehead. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. Just don’t be annoyed when I text you every five minutes to make sure you don’t need anything.”

“Don’t worry, _mi vida_ ,” Rafael answers, his eyes fluttering back shut as his smile widens into something more genuine. “That doesn’t sound much different than what you already do.”

\--

Once they’d returned to the 16th, Amanda and Fin had gotten straight to work. It hadn’t taken long to find a trace on Whittaker, the guy doesn’t keep the low profile his father is known for, and while he isn’t a household name by any means, Amanda has realized since researching his Google results that she’s definitely seen his face on the cover of a few tabloids. 

Fin had been the one to figure out where Whittaker’s office is located, had been the one to place the call to a secretary named Missy. 

“Oh! Tom— Mr. Whittaker is out of the office right now, did you have a business call appointment? There must have been a mixup.”

“No mix-up,” Fin had told her, “no appointment. When’s he going to be back?”

“Friday. I can see if I can pencil you in, but he—”

“That won’t be necessary. Thanks for the info.”

Friday. It’s two whole days from now but it’s more than Amanda could have hoped for and honestly, more than she’d expected. Liv, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as pleased. 

“Whittaker,” she says, gesturing for Amanda to close the door to her office. “As in—”

“As in the multi-billion dollar Whittaker hotel chain, yeah, that’s the one. Tom, Jr.’s record is clean except for one TRO that got retracted a few years back by a woman, Melissa King, who moved from Washington Heights to Chelsea within the span of a month. Guess who her employer is now?”

Shaking her head, Liv answers, “Sounds like a settlement to me.”

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck.”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s something.”

Amanda nods. It’s something, that’s what they’d wanted, anything to tell Carisi and Barba that the case is moving along in some way because even though it’s only been a day, she thinks all of them _need_ there to be progress. No roadblocks, no hurdles, they just need to stay on the road to bringing this son of a bitch down for what he’d done.

“We’re going to pay Whittaker a visit when he gets back on Friday, bring him in for questioning, did you want to come?”

“No, no, you and Fin can take this. I’ll be there for the interrogation, but I have to follow up on a few other things for other cases, make sure the DAs who took over Barba’s workload aren’t slacking. They’re not quite like him.”

“Is anyone?” Amanda quips, and the smile she gets is fond but grim. “Have you talked to him at all today?”

“I left him a voicemail, sent him a few texts.” Liv shrugs. “He hasn’t responded.”

“He didn’t text me back, either,” Amanda tells her, though she isn’t necessarily surprised by that. “The doctors probably have him on brain rest anyway, you know Sonny won’t let him near anything that might make the concussion worse if that’s the case.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Liv agrees, “and I’ll call Carisi later, he’d get in touch if anything was wrong.”

There’s more to it, Amanda knows that. Liv and Barba are close, their friendship had grown in a way Amanda sometimes find herself envying, and she knows that’s part of why she’s always held Barba at arm’s length. Between Carisi and Liv, Barba has two of the most important people in her life willing to bend over backwards for him and that’s been a hard pill to swallow every now and then. She isn’t proud of that, but it’s the way it is, and she suspects Barba doesn’t feel much differently. 

At least they have that in common.

Amanda bites down on her lip, shifting from one foot to the other before cautiously offering, “I know it’s not ideal. Whittaker, I mean.”

Liv grimaces. She looks tired. That’s fair, Amanda thinks, she’d had a long night last night. Barba’s attack feels like it’d happened so much longer ago than that. 

“It’s going to be an uphill battle,” Liv agrees. “We’ve seen it before.”

“We’ve won before, too,” Amanda points out. 

“Yes, we have. But… we had Barba.” Sighing, Liv rubs at the space between brows. “Anyway, good work today. Keep me updated on anything new.”

It’s an invitation to leave, and Amanda almost defies it in favor of staying to offer more of some form of stunted comfort, but Liv doesn’t look back up from the paperwork she’s started on so Amanda nods. “Thanks. I will.”

She leaves Liv’s office feeling much worse than she had going in. 

—

When Sonny gets the call, it comes at a convenient time, which is more than he can say for the rest of the day. Rafael is finally back in bed with his medication and the few sips of soup he could take in his belly, having fallen asleep considerably quickly after a short but grueling phone call to his mother. Sonny’s still reeling from the yelling even he could hear from the other line, and he’d only been able to catch bits and pieces of the rapid-fire back and forth between the two Barbas in Spanish while he’d fixed up some chicken noodle for his boyfriend.

He’s actually surprised by how quickly Rafael had managed to talk her down, though he supposes waiting until tomorrow for Lucia to come for a visit isn’t the worst compromise in the world. It’s a good one, in fact, at least for the two of them, because Rafael has looked so heartbreakingly weak all day that the thought of having visitors over at all this week is exhausting in itself.

Still, she’s the love of his life’s mother, so he has to make an effort, even if he’s quietly more inclined to tell everyone to leave them the hell alone for a little while, at least until Rafael recovers enough to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. Sonny certainly can’t hold it against Lucia, though, this is her son they’re talking about, precious cargo to them both. Rafael is the one major thing in their lives they have in common, the one thing that is sure to bring a smile to both their faces when his name comes up in conversation between them, and Sonny can’t deny he hasn’t relished those moments. They aren’t exceptionally close, they don’t see each other unless Rafael is there to bring them together, but Sonny thinks they’ve been making progress.

The way things have developed now sure as hell beats when she’d insisted on calling him “Detective” and nothing else for at least a couple months after Rafael had introduced Sonny to her as his partner. Sometimes, though, Sonny thinks he sees Lucia look at him the way she looks at Rafael, with a reserved fondness that not everyone earns from her. She’s a sharp woman, in mind and in spirit, Rafael takes after her in that way. Sonny doesn’t think she would ever let anyone catching her look at them like that by accident.

“You make him happy. His whole face changes when he’s with you,” Lucia had told him once. She’d sauntered away to fuss over Rafael before Sonny had even had a chance to process the words, but he still thinks about that, months and months later. It’d sounded like a blessing. He’ll take it, he’ll take anything Lucia is willing to give.

So when the phone does ring, he half expects it to be her, calling him because she can’t reach Rafael, and Sonny stares at the screen in surprise when he discovers that it’s actually Liv. He damn near misses the call, in fact, catching it at the last second and almost tripping over the coffee table he’s been trying to rearrange. “Hi, Lieu, hello? You there?”

“I’m here, Carisi. I called.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. I’m just in the middle of cleaning up the place, Mrs. Barba’s coming over tomorrow.”

“I caught you at a bad time, then?”

“No, it’s fine. Were you calling to check up on Rafael?”

There’s a pause, a beat long enough that Sonny nearly asks him she’s there again when Liv asks, “How is he?”

“Okay.” That’s an exaggeration, actually, but Sonny doesn’t necessarily feel like hashing out all the details of the day. It’s been draining, physically and emotionally, for Rafael, especially. It has to get better from here, that’s what Sonny’s been telling himself all day. It’s what he’s been praying for all day. Please, let it get easier from here. “He’s been sleeping, on and off. Freaked me out this morning, came walking out of the bedroom like he thinks he’s Rocky or something, like he doesn’t need rest after what happened to him.”

Maybe he does need to talk about it. With a sigh, he plops down on the couch, running a hand through greasy hair. He hasn’t showered since the night before last, he realizes. 

“You said his mother’s coming over?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. She wanted to come today, of course she did, but Raf convinced her to wait. He’s sending me out to lunch with my sister, and I just-- I don’t know.”

“You just what?”

“I don’t like the idea of not being able to see him.”

“You’ll only be at lunch for a couple hours, won’t you?”

“I know it’s stupid, I can’t explain it.”

“It’s not stupid.” Liv’s tone is firm, persuasive. Sonny believes her when she says it, and he relaxes a bit, leaning his head back against the couch. “A little irrational, maybe, but not stupid. I understand.”

“Thanks, Lieu. Any updates on the investigation? I know it’s probably too soon.”

“Actually,” Liv starts, the slight caution he catches in her voice making Sonny sit back up at full attention, “that’s why I called. Amanda and Fin went down to Whiskey Tavern to look for the bartender on duty last night. He was there.”

“So what, he-- he-- he can pull slips, right? Get footage or something? Anything?” Sonny glances up at the bedroom door, slightly ajar, but there’s no sign of any stirring. “Please tell me we’ve got something, Liv.”

“We do. Carisi, we have a suspect. Tom Whittaker. The bartender named him, he’s willing to cooperate however he can.”

Tom Whittaker.

Tom Whittaker.

Tom fucking Whittaker. Sonny commits it to memory, knows he’ll never forget it. 

“Well, that’s great news!”

“It is.”

“So why you sound like you don’t think it’s great news?”

A deep exhale sounds from the other end of the phone. “We might run into some problems with this one. Tom Whittaker is the heir to Whittaker Hotel & Suites.”

Oh. 

“Shit.” Sonny scrubs a hand over his face before burying it, rest his elbow on his thigh as he tries to consider their options. “Okay, well, it’s not like we haven’t deal with someone like this before, it doesn’t change anything.”

“No, it doesn’t. If he is the one who assaulted Rafael--”

“ _If_?”

“Yes, Carisi, _if_. Rafael hasn’t identified him yet, and the bartender only saw them together outside in the alley after the attack was over. Whittaker told him someone else had jumped them both then took off, said he was going after him.”

“Please don’t tell me you buy that bullshit story. You know what Rafael said, he didn’t mention anything about a third person in that alley.”

“Rafael has a head injury,” Liv reminds him, “and I’m not saying Whittaker was telling the truth, but that’s what a defense attorney will point out. Now, Whittaker does match the description Rafael gave us, the bartender confirms Whittaker left the bar a couple minutes after Rafael did and that they were both in the alley when he walked out, these are good things, usable things. But we need to be prepared for a fight, I need you to understand that.”

Sonny’s hand balls into a fist, one he has to hold against his lips for a moment while he tries to catch a breath, steady the pulse that’s been rising since he’d learned Tom fucking Whittaker’s name. “I do.”

“Good, because Rafael’s going to need you to help him through this. I know you love him, I know you want to protect him, but you can’t lose your head.”

Swallowing hard, Sonny nods even though Liv can’t see him, flexing his fingers. “When are you bringing him in?”

“He’s out of the state. According to his secretary, he’ll be back Friday. Fin and Amanda will bring him to the station then.”

“I want to be there.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Liv, I have to,” Sonny pleads, leaping up from the couch and pacing the small space from one side of the coffee table to the other. “I won’t talk to him, won’t touch him, he won’t know I’m there, but I need to see him. I need to hear what he says for myself.”

“Carisi--” 

“You said you understood. Lieu, you know why I have to be there. I’m begging you, please.”

He thinks he can hear her throw a pen, something lands with a clatter, but he knows he has her. “You’ll be on the other side of the glass before he even gets in,” she says, and Sonny beams triumphantly, alone in his living room. “Whittaker doesn’t see you once, you don’t say a damn word to him, you’re there strictly as an observer and then you’re out.”

“You have my word.”

“I can’t believe I’m allowing this but fine, I’ll be there to watch with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You’re not the only one who needs to hear what this son of a bitch has to say.”

She’s right. She’s right, and Sonny frowns, embarrassed. “Sorry. I should be saying thank you. We, uh, have the doctor’s appointment scheduled Friday morning. I’ll head in after I get Rafael home.” 

“He’s not going to be happy about this.”

“No,” Sonny agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. Then again, maybe Rafael doesn’t need to know. “Hey, Lieu, do me a favor? If you talk to Raf in the next day or two, maybe don’t bring this up quite yet?”

“Carisi, he needs to know.”

“No, I know,” Sonny amends quickly, “but he’s stressed out enough as it is. If Whittaker isn’t even going to be back on Friday, I don’t know, maybe it might be for the best to keep him in the dark a little longer. Maybe he’ll end up remembering Whittaker’s name on his own, that’d be good, right? Besides, I know him, he’ll end up googling Whittaker’s name and going down the rabbit hole, and it’ll be bad news all around so-- so just trust me on this, okay? Let me handle it.”

“You know him best,” Liv says, though she doesn’t sound at all impressed. “If you feel that’s the right thing to do, okay, I’ll go along with it for now.”

“Don’t worry, Lieu,” Sonny assures her, his gaze returning to the bedroom door. This is the right thing to do, he’s sure of it, it has to be. “I’ve got this. I’ll take care of him.”

After all, that’s his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience on this chapter, my friends! I had guests in town, other projects to deal with, then got terribly sick for a bit so it's been a ride. I did want to say I appreciate all the comments I get for the story and I do intend to go in and respond at some point. For now, they all mean something special to me, I love hearing what readers have to say so by all means, please keep them coming! <3


	5. i'd make a deal with god and i'd get him to swap our places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re my priority. You know that. If you want me to call her and tell her lunch is off, I will. No question.”
> 
> “I know,” Rafael tells him, grasping Sonny’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Believe me, I do know, and I love you for it. But it’s okay, I shouldn’t have said it, I’m just…” He bites down on his lip, the crease in his forehead deepening as he searches for the right word, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds it. “Overwhelmed.”
> 
> “I’ll be a phone call away,” Sonny promises. He brings Rafael’s knuckles to his mouth, brushing his lips over them. “I know you’re going to feel like you have to keep it together for your mom, but you don’t. And if you need me, I’ll come right back.”
> 
> Rafael smiles, a small smile but another genuine one, and he tugs his hand out of Sonny’s so he can cup his partner’s cheek. “I don’t know what I did deserve you, but I’m sure as hell glad I did it.”

Sonny's a nervous ball of energy on Thursday morning, and Rafael watches from the comfort of their bed with mild amusement as his partner makes a second attempt to rifle through his side of the closet to find something to wear. When it comes to work or date nights, Sonny never seems to have a problem (and especially not when Rafael has anything to say about it) but this is something that gives him a real reason to fret over his wardrobe. 

This is lunch with his sister.

"Do the light blue button-up with the navy vest combo," Rafael suggests, gesturing vaguely at the closet. "I like when you wear that, Gina can't possibly find something to criticize when you look that good."

Rafael is rewarded with a pleased smile when Sonny looks over a shoulder at him and finds himself doubly satisfied when Sonny reaches for the same button-up. 

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Sonny says, laying the shirt down just below where Rafael's feet reach on the mattress. 

He can feel Rafael's eyes on him when he takes off the plain, grey tee-shirt he'd slept in, lifting a teasing brow at his boyfriend before throwing the shirt at Rafael's face. For a split second, they both forget themselves, forget the reason why they’re both here at home and not at work. For that split second, Sonny doesn’t see the bruises but a smile, a genuine one, and he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed that until now. Rafael grabs the shirt and tosses it back at Sonny without a second thought, both of them laughing until he shifts with sudden discomfort and winces, wrapping an arm around himself with a sharp hiss of pain. He hides his face against his shoulder, his body tense and trembling while he waits for the shooting ache in his ribs to pass. Sonny's quick to close the small gap between them, hands hovering over Rafael's body, though he's not sure what he can do. There's nothing he can do. 

"Shit, Raf, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Don't," Rafael says, testing a deep breath and finding that it's a failed experiment, one that makes him drop his head back against his pillow as another jolt of pain travels through his body. "It's okay. It'll stop."

It does, after another half minute or so, and Rafael allows Sonny to take his good hand then to give it the comforting squeeze he desperately needs. Their eyes meet, holding steady through the silence, and Rafael’s certain they’re both thinking the same thing: this isn’t the last time this will happen. There’s always going to be something. The bruises will fade, the fractures will heal, maybe he’ll need physical therapy to get his wrist back in working order and maybe not, but there will always be _something_. An insensitive comment, maybe, a look of realization or pity on someone’s face when a case seems too close to home, those will almost certainly outlast any physical pain from his assault. He’s not certain yet which will be worse to handle, but Rafael has a pretty good guess. 

“It’s okay,” he eventually murmurs, stroking the pad of his thumb over the edge of Sonny’s palm. “I’m fine, I promise.”

It’s not okay, Sonny thinks, it’s not fine, but he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from saying it and to keep his eyes from welling up with tears of frustration over the fact that his boyfriend can’t even fucking _laugh_ without it becoming yet another hurdle to jump during what’s been an otherwise great morning. It isn’t fair and that sounds so childish but Sonny can’t stop thinking it. This isn’t okay, this isn’t fine, but beyond that, Rafael shouldn’t have to be the one to comfort him. That’s not how this is supposed to work and it only serves to fuel the rage that's been building inside him for the piece of shit who's responsible for this.

That piece of shit has a name now. Tom Whittaker. Tom fucking Whittaker.

"Wear a tie," Rafael is saying, obviously eager to pretend like nothing had just happened at all, and Sonny only just manages to hear him over the blood rushing through his ears. "It's a nice place."

"What's it called again?" Sonny asks, relieved that his voice sounds steady enough to pass for nonchalant, even if he opts not to let go of Rafael’s hand and instead sits at the edge of the bed. 

"Carbone," Rafael says with an exasperated groan. "I can't believe you've never heard of it, you're an uncultured swine."

Sonny smirks at the barb, pointedly ignoring it. "What's so great about it, anyway? You know the best Italian places are the mom-and-pop places. Or, you know, right in our kitchen."

"By all means, if you'd like to take your snobby sister to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant or make her lunch here, you do that," Rafael says. His tone is dry, and Sonny has his back to him but Rafael rolls his eyes anyway. "I'm respectfully requesting that you actually don't do that, though, because I had to call in a favor to get you two a reservation. Also, I don’t really want to spend the afternoon watching Gina and my mom go at it, that would be the freshest kind of hell. You'd better bring me back something delicious since I can't be there to bask in the glory of that food in person."

Sonny scoffs, lifting a challenging brow at Rafael, who keeps his expression perfectly neutral. "Okay, first of all, since when do you do anything respectfully? You just called my sister a snob.”

Rafael merely shrugs, and Sonny can’t even summon up the will to push the argument because frankly, it’s true. Gina _is_ a snob. 

“What's the second of all?"

"I don't have one," Sonny admits, prompting a well-deserved eye roll. 

"You're unbearable."

Sonny grins, leaning in to press a kiss over the freckle on Rafael’s shoulder that’s peeking out of his shirt. "Yeah. But you love me anyway."

Rafael's eyes soften. He frees his hand from Sonny’s in favor of threading his fingers through blond and silver hair, still damp from a shower. "I do. I love you anyway. God help me."

A new wave of silence follows but it’s comfortable, a content quiet shared and filled by words that don’t need to be said. Sonny loves this kind of quiet, the first time it’d happened between them, he’d had to forcibly stop himself from letting the giddy laugh bubbling in his throat escape him. Every time Rafael runs out of words to say, even though it's always just temporary, Sonny wants to shout from a rooftop that he's the one capable of rendering Manhattan's sharpest-tongued ADA speechless. He's the one who gets to wake up to Rafael Barba's arm draped over his waist. He's the one who gets to hear "I love you anyway" on a daily basis. These are maybe small joys in the grand scheme of things, he realizes that, but they’re important to him because he knows what it means for them. 

He’d gotten copies of their signed disclosure papers in a frame, now hanging on the wall in the hallway, for their one-year anniversary because that'd been Rafael’s somewhat clumsy idea of a romantic gesture at the time and that's who he is. Sonny had gotten bankrupting tickets for them to see a Broadway show about a dead president and taken Rafael out to that Korean joint they'd visited the very first night they'd kissed, but that's who Sonny is. 

In the silence, they’re the same. 

They see each other for who they are, they accept each other for that, and every single day, Sonny is grateful. In spite of the bruises and the dark circles under his boyfriend's eyes, Rafael Barba is still the most beautiful man Sonny has ever seen, and the fact that he gets to wake up to the love of his life each morning is a gift he still can't quite grasp deserving.

It’s the buzz of his phone on the nightstand that brings them both back to the present moment. Sonny doesn’t bother to check the message, instead giving Rafael a quick peck to the lips before resuming his effort to get dressed. "You up for some breakfast before your mom and Gina get here?" Sonny asks, shrugging into his shirt. 

Rafael drops his gaze and immediately chastises himself for it because he knows it'll make Sonny feel guilty, for some inexplicable reason. It'll make Sonny feel guilty because they'd shared such a pleasant moment just now, a moment resembling normalcy, but they're back to the current reality of their lives. Breakfast isn't just breakfast, it isn't just a meal Rafael usually skips. It's something he needs if he wants to keep the pain at bay, and he's in pain because he'd been attacked by someone whose name he still can't remember. There really is always going to be something.

"Just toast again," Rafael says, lifting the sheets to move them off his lap, though he makes no real attempt to get up quite yet. At the vaguely disappointed look on Sonny’s face, he adds, "Maybe I could try an egg with it this time. Sunny side up, please.”

"Coming right up." Sonny gives him a soft smile as he buttons up his vest. "Just stay here and relax, I want you to rest as much as you can before company comes."

"Yes, nurse," Rafael mutters, though he can't help the smile that twitches when Sonny laughs on his way out of the bedroom. 

"Oh, Raf," Sonny says, his head popping back into view within the doorway. "This, uh, this pretty much goes without saying but be nice when Gina gets here, will you?"

"I'll be nice," Rafael answers, a little too primly, but he raises his chin in defiance and Sonny doesn't argue, only squints suspiciously. "Well, I'll be nice if she's nice."

"I swear, it's like dealing with kids on a playground," Sonny says, shaking his head as he resumes his path to the kitchen.

"I'd rather deal with kids on a playground than with your sister," Rafael calls after him, huffing as best he can when he hears Sonny shout back a dismissive, "yeah, yeah."

Gina is the only Carisi sister Rafael hasn't quite found common ground with yet. He's not particularly determined to find it, if only because she seems about as willing to make the effort as he is. Still, he has to grudgingly admit that she loves her younger brother deeply and at the very least, they share that in common. Besides that, her approval has always meant a great deal to Sonny. Teresa and Gina had always been there to defend him and Bella, Sonny had explained once, even if they’d sometimes taken it to an absurd degree. They'd been there to supply him with hugs and ice cream after his first break-up. They'd stood by his side when he'd come out to their parents. They'd supported his many, many department transfers and eventual decision to apply to Fordham, in spite of the fact that Sonny had spent years as a young boy proclaiming that he wanted to be a priest until he'd realized upon growing up what that really meant. 

They'd been there for him, all of his sisters. Sonny wouldn't be who he is without that support system, even if he hadn't had that in full from their parents. Mr. and Mrs. Carisi aren't awful people, not by any means, and they've always been civil to Rafael but at an arm's length. Bella and Teresa have embraced him as part of the family already, which makes Rafael feel simultaneously touched and awkward. It's Gina who still seems to view him with skepticism, as if he might snatch Sonny's heart and run off with it until he's successfully shattered it into a million pieces. What she hasn’t figured out yet, what so many can’t seem to understand about them, is that they're certain of this, of what they have together. The love Rafael has for Sonny is unlike anything he's ever felt before, he’s never been so sure of anything in his life, and it's not something he’d let go of easily. Or at all, for that matter. 

If Gina isn't convinced of that yet, Rafael is fine with it. There's still time for him to prove it. In fact, if Rafael has his way, he'll have the rest of his life.

—

Lucia Barba has never been a patient woman. For this, she makes no apologies and has never felt like she should. When it comes to her son, she’s done her very best to be understanding, to give him the space he so often seems to want, and she believes she’s been fairly successful in doing those things. He’s been through so much, her Rafi, and sometimes Lucia wishes she could turn back the clock to prevent a great deal of what’s made his life so difficult but they’re long past that now.

He’s told her before he doesn’t blame her for a less than ideal childhood. That has never freed Lucia from blaming herself. It’s exactly why she overcompensates when Rafael does need her, when he calls upon her to come to _him_ , because it’s so very rare that he would, especially now that he has Sonny. She has to admit, albeit somewhat reluctantly, that Sonny’s presence in Rafael’s life has been nothing but positive. It hadn’t been in her vision of his future, to see Rafael fall in love with another man, but she’s had decades to at least get used to the idea. Now that they’ve been together for a couple years, Lucia’s slowly starting to make her way from resenting Sonny for hoarding her son’s attention to resenting Sonny for not proposing to Rafael yet.

She’s never let herself consider the other option, the possibility Sonny might one day leave Rafael. Aside from the fact that she doesn’t actually think he ever would, it only takes her back to when Rafael had returned for a visit from Harvard to find Yelina engaged to Alex. It’d shattered him for longer than she would have expected and there’s still a part of her that blames Yelina for Rafael’s subsequent experimentation with other boys in school, but it’s not an experiment anymore. It’s who Rafael is and no matter the circumstances, he’s her son. She may not have proven herself to be the very best mother when her late husband had been alive, but she’s trying harder now. Whether it makes much of a difference in the long run, Lucia can’t be sure, but she will do what she can to make sure Rafael never has to question how much she loves him again. 

Of course, that still doesn’t make her any less of a patient woman, and she holds the button for Rafael’s apartment down again when her first attempt doesn’t get her buzzed through the door within five seconds. 

A tinny voice sounds from the intercom then, accompanied by an accent that still tempts Lucia to roll her eyes with exasperation every time she hears it. “We’re here, Mrs. Barba, we’re here. Was just helping Rafael get ready, I’ll buzz you up.”

The buzzer goes off immediately, and Lucia huffs her way through the door, never mind the fact Sonny can’t bear witness to her dramatics. Rafael may love the detective and that may make Sonny a part of her family now but that doesn’t make it any less entertaining to give him a hard time. His cheeks tend to flush pink from being on the receiving end of just one unimpressed glare and sometimes, Lucia even manages to make him retreat into another room. Rafael always chastises her for it, begs her to be _nicer_ , but she thinks Sonny is a little smarter than that. She’s let him catch a couple fond smiles here and there, hints that she more enjoys getting a reaction than anything else. 

Besides, she’s discussed this with her friends over lunch, and they’ve all come to the agreement that there’s nothing wrong with making their children’s significant others work up a sweat now and then. It builds character. 

Lucia doesn’t bother with the elevator, taking the staircase up to the fourth floor and rapping on the door with her knuckles once she arrives.

Sonny is quick to let her in, offering a smile that just barely shows off his handsome dimples and doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. He looks tired, Lucia thinks, and it endears him to her that much more. “Hi,” he greets, stepping aside to make space for her, “Raf said to let you know he’ll be out in a minute. I’m just waiting for my sister to get here, then we’ll get out of your hair.”

Patting Sonny on the cheek as she passes, Lucia hums an acknowledgment, glancing around the apartment with a scrutinizing eye before deciding she approves of what she sees. She hadn’t been sure what to expect since Rafael and Sonny tend to spend so much more time at their jobs than at home and with Rafael hurt, Lucia had wondered whether the apartment would be left a mess. Sonny’s done well, though, it seems, everything looks spotless. It’s no wonder he looks so exhausted.

“How is he today?” Lucia asks, finally stopping to meet Sonny’s eyes. She finds herself suddenly overcome with nauseating worry, surprised at herself that she hasn’t already barged into the bedroom to see how she can help. A part of her is afraid, she recognizes that, afraid to see her son covered in bruises like she’d so often come home to find him when he was younger. Those bruises had always been reminders of her failures, of all the things she hadn’t been able to do to protect him. Seeing the defeat in Sonny’s eyes now at her question, Lucia suspects he must be feeling quite the same way.

“He seems a little brighter today,” Sonny answers vaguely. “He even made a few jokes. He’s been too tired to talk all that much since coming home, for the most part, so it was nice to see him smile. He’s still in a lot of pain, though, he just took his meds with his breakfast.”

“Has he talked much about what happened?” Lucia hadn’t been able to get much out of Rafael on the phone yesterday and when she’d called Sonny later to see what else she could learn, he hadn’t been much help, either. It’s for Rafael to decide when he wants to share, Sonny had said. 

Damn the detective’s loyalty.

Sonny hesitates, glancing down at his shoes. “He’s talked about it here and there. My advice would be not to bring it up unless he does first. I know you want to know more about it, but I’ve been trying to make home life feel as normal as possible, make this feel like a safe space for him. No nightmares yet, at least nothing that’s woken him up, so I think that’s good. He’ll have to talk about it plenty once we have the guy who did it in custody so I’m just trying to spare him that for a long as I can.”

“You have a suspect already?” Sonny nods, earning a sigh of relief from Lucia. “Well, thank God for that.”

“Yeah. Listen, Mrs. Barba, I haven’t really had a chance to talk to Rafael about that yet so I’d appreciate it very much if you could avoid telling him. He’ll know by tomorrow, there are just a few things about the suspect I’d like to talk to him about first.”

Lucia purses her lips, not thrilled by the request but understanding Sonny’s need to be the one to tell Rafael about it himself. “Fine,” she says with a slight nod, “but I’d like for you to keep me updated, too. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, not when we both know Rafael will think he needs to spare me the details.”

“It’s not too much to ask,” Sonny agrees, and he looks ready to say more but there’s a shuffle of feet coming from the hallway behind him that makes him look over his shoulder. “Raf, hey, your ma’s here.”

The second Sonny moves to help Rafael along, Lucia catches her first sight of her son. Tears spring to her eyes upon seeing the bruises on his face, black and blue framing green, it’s exactly what she’d expected to happen, and she gasps a quiet “ _mijo_ ” before clamping a trembling hand over her mouth. 

“ _Mami_...” 

Rafael trails off, and he looks helplessly to Sonny, searching for words neither of them can come up with right now. What is there to say? What comfort can he bring to his mother when he doesn’t even know how to comfort himself? 

The last time Rafael had seen her this lost for words had been when his _abuelita_ had died. It’s a bitter memory, one he hasn’t talked about since having too much scotch to drink on the anniversary of her death and falling asleep in Sonny’s arms with tear tracks down his cheeks. It’s unsettling to see his mother like this again now, like she’s somehow lost him, too, and maybe that won’t end up being all too wrong in the long run. He’s trying, he really is trying, but Rafael still can’t help fearing what the future may bring. He can’t stay in this apartment with Sonny forever, immune to the perils of the outside world, and he hates the fact that he wishes he could. Rafael has never wished for anything like that before and maybe he should cut himself a break because it’s only been three days, but he’s also never done things the easy way. 

“Where do you want to go, babe?” Sonny asks softly, one hand resting at the small of Rafael’s back and the other fiddling with the hem of Rafael’s button-up. 

It’d taken him so damn long to leave the bedroom because he’d thought it might be easier to wear a shirt like this than have to strain against his ribs for a pullover. He hadn’t taken into account how frustrating it would be to do up the buttons with one hand and no assistance. In the end, he’d only managed to secure two buttons before Sonny had wandered in to help, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if he’s going out in public, and he’s in the presence of two people who wouldn’t care less what his clothes look like right now. 

“Couch, I guess,” Rafael eventually replies, taking a couple steps forward then letting Sonny guide him the rest of the way. “Mom, you can come sit with me, if you want.”

“Actually, I think I might brew some coffee,” she says, pressing a quick peck to his uninjured cheek before bypassing them on her way to the kitchen. 

“Mrs. Barba—” Sonny starts, but she’s already turned the corner, and he gives his boyfriend a small, sympathetic smile. “You okay?”

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Rafael answers softly, sinking onto the couch with a heavy, stunted sigh. “Maybe you were right, I shouldn’t have had guests over so soon.”

“She’s not just a guest, she’s your mom,” Sonny points out, coming to rest beside Rafael. He tangles their feet together, reaching out to twirl a longer strand of Rafael’s hair around his finger. “You know you wouldn’t have been able to stop her from coming anyway.”

“She doesn’t want to be here. Did you see that? She could barely look at me.”

“She doesn’t like to see you hurting. It’s different.”

“I wish I hadn’t told you to go to lunch.”

Sonny’s brows lift at that, and he frowns at how embarrassed Rafael looks to have said it. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, not in the slightest. It’s just a matter of convincing Rafael of the truth in that. “You know I can still cancel, right?”

“Oh, please,” Rafael says, waving his hand dismissively. “Gina will ice you out for weeks if you stand her up, you know that.”

“You’re my priority. You know _that_. If you want me to call her and tell her lunch is off, I will. No question.”

“I know,” Rafael tells him, grasping Sonny’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Believe me, I do know, and I love you for it. But it’s okay, I shouldn’t have said it, I’m just…” He bites down on his lip, the crease in his forehead deepening as he searches for the right word, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds it. “Overwhelmed.”

“I’ll be a phone call away,” Sonny promises. He brings Rafael’s knuckles to his mouth, brushing his lips over them. “I know you’re going to feel like you have to keep it together for your mom, but you don’t. And if you need me, I’ll come right back.”

Rafael smiles, a small smile but another genuine one, and he tugs his hand out of Sonny’s so he can cup his partner’s cheek. “I don’t know what I did deserve you, but I’m sure as hell glad I did it.”

“Oh.”

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Rafael drops his hand, though it comes to rest on Sonny’s knee. 

“ _Mami_. You got your coffee?”

It’s an unnecessary question, she’s holding a steaming mug in her hand, but she nods all the same. “Did I interrupt?”

“Not at all,” Sonny tells her, “I was just telling Rafael that Gina should be here soon.” 

As if on cue, his phone pings from his pocket and he lifts a hip off the couch so he can fish for it. Covering Rafael’s hand with his own, he gives it a gentle squeeze then shoots an apologetic smile at Lucia before answering his sister’s call. “Hey, Gina, you downstairs? No, I’m ready, I’ll just meet you down there. I know what I said but not today, okay? Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate that but it’s a little crowded up here right now so— oh, come on, can you not? Just stay downstairs, I’ll be there in a couple minutes. _Bye_.”

Sonny ends the call with an aggressive tap of his finger against the phone’s touchscreen, his cheeks aflame with embarrassment that Lucia had been standing there to watch him snap at his sister. It’s nothing Rafael hasn’t seen before, at least; of all Sonny’s sisters, Gina easily is and always has been the most difficult. It’s not that she’s a bad person, just that she could be better if she cared to try. He tries his best to be patient with her, six broken engagements in four years has to wear on a person, but if any of his sisters are capable of really making him lose his temper, it’s Gina. 

Especially when she makes disparaging comments about Rafael, which she’s often fond of doing, whether or not she claims it’s out of affection. 

After a beat, the corners of his boyfriend’s lips turn up into what Sonny’s pretty sure is meant to be an encouraging smile. “Did Gina want you to tell me she loves me, too?”

The teasing is enough to ease some of the tension from Sonny’s shoulders. “Oh, yeah,” Sonny answers after barking a laugh, “you know that’s the very first thing she said.” Sighing, he glances between Rafael and Lucia, who still seems to look strangely awkward with her coffee mug clutched close to her chest. “Is it going to be okay if I head out?”

Lucia’s eyes brighten then and she shakes her head as if she’s just been awoken from a daydream. “Yes, of course,” she says. “I’m sorry I won’t get to meet your sister but you’re right, it would get too crowded in and Rafael needs his rest.”

Rafael rolls his eyes. “I’d be fine, mom. Not that I’m desperate to get Gina up here.”

“Very funny,” Sonny interjects. He gives Rafael a kiss on the cheek then stands, gesturing for Lucia to take his place as he moves away from the couch. “She might just break her way in if I don’t get downstairs, though, so I’m out of here. If either of you needs anything, call me.”

“Make sure to give Gina my warmest of wishes.”

“You’re full of jokes today,” Sonny says. “Hey, I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

Rafael nods, and Sonny doesn’t miss the flash of panic in his eyes. “Love you, too.”

Just before he leaves, Sonny glances back at the couch, dismayed to find Lucia still hasn’t taken a seat beside Rafael. As he lets the door fall shut behind him, he has to wonder whether Rafael had been right. Maybe this is a mistake, after all.

—

Carbone really doesn't look like much from the outside, to the point that Sonny even questions at first whether he and Gina are even at the right place. He hadn't mentioned outright where they'd be going for lunch, and Gina had been so busy telling him he looks like a Rafael clone in his vest and tie that she hadn't bothered to ask. Sonny had resisted pointing out that he's only been dressing like this for the past _couple years_ , if only because he doesn't see his sister often enough for that point to land.

"Carbone?" Gina's voice shoots up a few octaves higher than usual. They must be at the right place, then. "Seriously, Sonny? You're lucky I got my nails done the other day, no wonder Rafael dressed you up. Are you sure they're going to let us in? The peasants, the riff-raff?"

Sonny rolls his eyes, though he's tugging self-consciously at his vest. When Rafael had reminded him to take a jacket before leaving the apartment, he hadn't really thought about why. Now he gets that this is probably the kind of place that won't allow men in if they don't have one. "Look at you, all full of jokes. Your new clown of a boyfriend’s really rubbing off on you, huh?”

Gina's manicured fingers curl over her hips. With her long, blonde waves cascading over her shoulders and the skirt of her tailored black-and-white polka dot chiffon dress fluttering in the gentle, welcome breeze, she almost looks like she belongs outside of an upscale joint like this. The only thing that really makes her seem out of place is the slight remnant of a Staten Island accent that she's never been able to shake completely and the way she makes a little too much of a point to show off her classic Chanel lambskin purse. She’s had it for years but it’s the only big designer purchase she’s ever made, and she takes great pride she in being able to peacock around with it in a city full of people carrying the same damn thing. Upon learning her affinity for Chanel, Rafael had found a pair of vintage Chanel heels on eBay to give to Gina last Christmas, and she wears those today, too. 

Sonny kind of wishes he’d invited her up to the apartment now. Gina had muttered a word of thanks at the time, the reaction not quite up to par with the generosity of the gift, but it always pleases Rafael to see her actually wearing the shoes. They’d get along so much better if they weren’t both so damn headstrong, Sonny’s pretty confident about that. 

“Now who’s trying to be funny? I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me up to see Rafael, was he really being that much of a grumpy asshole that he couldn’t even say hello?” Before Sonny can defend his boyfriend, Gina rolls her eyes, already moving on. “How did you even get a reservation at this place? I've been wanting to try it but they don't take reservations less than a month in advance, and I know you don’t have any connections that actually come in useful."

Shrugging a shoulder, Sonny answers, "Rafael knows a guy. Something like that. I didn't really ask a lot of questions."

"Of course he knows a guy, I can't even pretend to be surprised. Anyway, you do realize this is one of those places that charges so much it doesn't even put the prices on the menu, right? Or maybe Rafael left that part out."

Rafael had, in fact, left that part out and Sonny is grateful for the dim lighting once they step through the doors of the restaurant that hides the way his cheeks flush when he peers at the menu on display to find Gina’s right. 

Sonny hadn't really thought twice when Rafael had told him not to worry about lunch, that he'd called ahead to leave his credit card number to cover the cost when he'd made the reservation. Sonny had just been so touched that his boyfriend would even do something so thoughtful in the first place, especially when it comes to Gina. Now, he just feels mildly embarrassed that he hadn't realized how fancy this place really is. Sonny hates to feel indebted, not that Rafael ever holds anything money-related over his head. It's just that he doesn't like to draw attention to it, for the most part, because he knows that's how some people view their relationship. Sonny's ten years younger than Rafael, who's a successful attorney with a closet full of suits that could probably pay for tuition at Fordham a few times over. Mutually beneficial, that's what he's heard people say about their relationship before, and he hates that. He hates knowing that people might view their relationship as worth anything less than it really is.

"Look, don't worry about it, okay?" Sonny mutters as they're led to a corner table. "I've got it covered so just get whatever you want."

The ambiance inside makes much more sense for the apparent cost and popularity of the restaurant. The walls and floor are a combination of brick and tile and wood, all the servers and hosts are dressed in crisp black and white, the seats are red leather, and the way the wine glasses are hanging upside down over the bar presents the illusion of a chandelier. Once they're seated, the host pours them water in heavy, crystal glasses and promises a server will be with them shortly. 

"I was planning on getting whatever I want, thanks," Gina counters, though she browses the menu options with a crease in her forehead that speaks to her mild concern for the future state of Sonny's wallet. Or maybe it's Rafael's wallet, she thinks. That does make much more sense. With a sigh, she sets the menu down and looks across the table at her brother, studying Sonny's face. He's tired, she can see that without having to look twice, but that doesn't come as much of a surprise.

"So how _is_ Rafael?" she asks, smoothing down the cloth napkin she's set down on her lap.

"He's doing better." It's vague. It's kind of the truth. 

"But Mr. Grumpy Asshole can’t deal with seeing more than one family member at a time, that it?”

"He’s tired," Sonny snaps defensively, irritated that his sister would say something like that after everything that's happened. She knows Rafael's going through something, she knows he's hurting. It always irks him how insensitive she can be when she feels like she's not being catered to but that's just her way. Sonny's used to it by now, he can usually brush it off without any hard feelings, but it's different when it comes to his boyfriend. "The pain meds hadn’t kicked in yet, his mom had just gotten there and seeing him like that got her all freaked out. It was a rough start to the day. He's not an asshole, Gina."

"Hey, make whatever excuses you want," Gina says. They’ve had this debate before, about some snarky comment Rafael had made to her at Easter Sunday. Bella had pointed out Gina had made a snarky comment to him first, but that's hardly the point, and Sonny’s sure that it just bugs her that her own siblings wouldn’t take her side. That should tell her something, of course, but she never seems to get the hint. "For the record, he _can_ be one sometimes, he—”

"He's not an asshole!" It's a damn good thing they'd been seated in a corner table because otherwise, Sonny's sure someone would be making a beeline over to them to ask them to settle down and word would probably get back to Rafael. He sinks down in his chair a little, practically sulking now. "He's not."

"Fine, Sonny, fine, he's not an asshole. Let's agree to disagree and move on, just pretend like he can more or less ignore me anytime he wants. Then gets what, mugged, can’t even deign to let his future sister-in-law in to see him?"

“He was almost raped."

Gina’s lips are already parted, ready to return a quip to the one she'd expected to come from her brother about the sister-in-law comment, but Sonny says _that_ and she loses the words that'd been at the tip of her tongue. She hadn’t actually thought to ask about the details of what had d happened to Rafael. He’d gotten his ass kicked, that's all, about as much to cry over as spilled milk because these things happen and even though it’s rough, what’s done is done. The facts she’s been working with are limited: Rafael had been attacked outside a bar, he'd gotten hurt. That's a much milder statement to carry with her in her mind than "he was almost raped." 

Gina almost says as much but there's pleading in Sonny's puppy dog eyes that she just can't take. He's begging her, she thinks. He's begging her not to push buttons right now, not when it comes to Rafael and not when it's all still so fresh. That's only fair. That's only civil. Even though Sonny doesn’t seem to think she’s capable of it most of the time, she _does_ know how to be civil.

She breaks eye contact because she can't stand looking at Sonny anymore, her gaze drifting instead toward the brick wall. That doesn't help. It only makes her wonder whether Rafael's blood is still staining the wall of that alley. It makes her wonder whether Rafael had even had enough time to call for help before someone had snapped his wrist and she has to swallow down bile with a gulp of water.

Gina likes Rafael, she does. The guy's a little prickly for her generally optimistic brother, but they balance each other out in a strange, unexpected way and for her part, she sees how Rafael looks at Sonny. She sees the way they look at each other, the kisses and glances they steal when they think nobody's watching. Gina doesn't recall ever seeing Sonny sacrifice a thundering cheer for a Mets home run for a kiss with a significant other before, even Johnny hadn’t done that for her and Johnny had been the most beloved of her fiancés among the family. She sees the gentle threading of their fingers when their hands mindlessly find each other and how easily they fall into sync when they walk together. It’s the kind of romance she yearns for, the kind she’s found and lost over and over again, and maybe that makes her resent Rafael just a little. He and Sonny love each other to the moon and back, Gina hasn’t doubted that for a long time. Meanwhile, she’s been engaged six times and after the third, the family had stopped taking it seriously. She’d thought she’d finally gotten somewhere with Johnny but then he’d left, he’d slept with other women while they were together and left. Sonny’s here on Rafael’s dime fighting for his boyfriend’s honor. 

Dealing with them is an enormous struggle sometimes. 

In spite of all that, seeing her baby brother so happy with a man who really is more than just the asshole Gina teases him about being makes Rafael family. So she'll back off, of course she will, and she nods solemnly like she's just been lectured. She supposes that's accurate. It's not a very comfortable feeling, not when it's coming from Sonny.

"I didn’t know,” she says apologetically, “Bella didn’t tell me.”

“Bella doesn’t know. Rafael’s own mom doesn’t know. Don’t say anything, okay? I only want him to talk about it when he’s ready.”

“Yeah, okay.” After a brief pause, she adds, “I don’t really think he's an asshole.” She feels like she can breathe again when it makes Sonny smile and relax back against his chair. 

"I don't believe you," he says without any malice in his tone, "but thanks for saying it."

 

—

It takes an entire episode of _Golden Girls_ and several texts from Sonny asking how things are going before Rafael finds the courage to call his mother out on how silent she’s been since Sonny had left them alone. She’s barely looked at him, opting instead to chuckle at all the right places during the show and excusing herself during commercials breaks for a refill on her coffee, a visit to the restroom, whatever she happens to think of next. 

“You really came all this way to sit here in silence? You weren’t this quiet last week when you called to tell me about what happened in the latest _Hearts on Fire_.”

She doesn’t turn her face to look at him but Rafael can see his mother’s jaw working, can practically see the wheels turning in her head. An answer won’t come until she’s prepared to give one and sometimes that can be infuriating when he wants the gratification of an instant response. 

It’s fine, he decides, and the voice in his head is petty even though his mother can’t hear it. It’s fine, they can sit here all damn day watching old sitcoms without saying another word if that’s what she prefers. 

“You hadn’t been attacked last week and those firemen bachelors give me a lot to talk about.”

Rafael stares at her in stunned silence, wondering if that’s really all she has to say. As it turns out, it isn’t. 

“Do you remember the first time you got your lunch money stolen from you?”

He blinks, narrowing his eyes as he tries and only vaguely manages to find the memory. “Not really. What does that have to do with anything?”

“It was before you met Alex and Eddie. Good boys, Rafi, both of them.”

“Mom.”

She ignores the warning in his tone. It’s not a subject he particularly enjoys discussing, she knows that. “I know Alex has done bad things. Terrible things. I know. But you all took care of each other for so long, he took care of you in a way I couldn’t. The first time, you came home with a black eye and a bloody nose, I didn’t know what to do.”

His father had yelled at him for not being able to properly defend himself, Rafael does remember that, but he chooses to keep quiet on the subject. This had been before Alex, before Eddie, before _los tres mosqueteros de Jerome Avenue_ , but he’d still had a mouth on him and it’d gotten him into trouble more times than he could count. His mother had often scolded him for getting into fights but she’d never seemed particularly surprised about it so he still doesn’t quite see what relevance any of this holds now.

“I cleaned you up and sent you to bed then locked myself in the bathroom and cried.”

Now _that_ comes as a true surprise. Rafael frowns, inching closer to her so he can rest a hand over hers. “Mami?”

“You’re my only child, but I was taking care of so many others that I lost sight of you. Always just out of reach, Rafi, I felt like I failed you for so long.”

“Don’t say that. You didn’t fail me. You’re here.”

“I’m here, but I look at the bruises on your face and it reminds me all over again that I can’t do a thing to stop your suffering. You will always be my little one, _mijo_ , always, and I will always wish I could do more for you. If your _abuelita_ were still with us, she’d know exactly what to say.”

His heart aches at the mention of his grandmother but he shakes his head. “Your being here is enough. I promise you.” 

It’s what he’d said to Sonny, and it’s the honest truth. It’s a rare thing, he thinks, to know without a doubt one is loved. Maybe he’s had doubts before, doubts accompanied by insecurity built up over the years from experiences that had made him feel so alone; but he doesn’t question it anymore, not with Sonny and not with his mother. That isn’t something he takes for granted.

Lucia sighs, studying him for a moment before lifting a hand to gently cup his cheek. “I would bear the pain for you if I could.”

Rafael swallows hard, his bottom lip trembling as nuzzles his cheek against her palm. “I know,” he murmurs, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know you would. But you don’t have to, I’ll be okay.”

He’s going to try to be, anyway. 

“Rafi. Will you tell me what happened?”

Rafael stills. For a moment, he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe and he’s right back in the alley, reliving every second he remembers in agonizing detail. He’d held back on telling her about it on the phone, not because he hadn’t thought she wouldn’t be able to handle it but because he wasn’t sure _he_ could. Having to explain it twice in one night had been difficult enough, but he knows he can’t keep it from his mother for much longer. She’ll find out one way or another, and he’d much prefer that she hear it from him than the news.

“Okay, _mami_ ,” he says, eyes downcast and voice raised just over a whisper. “I’ll tell you.”

—

Gina stays quiet for a long while, longer than has ever been natural for her, pretending to study the menu again and mustering short answers to Sonny’s awkwardly forced small talk questions. Sonny almost feels bad for snapping at her but it tends to be near inevitable anytime they spend time together. It’s why he doesn’t call her as often as he does Bella or Teresa, and it’s always a little disappointing to feel like they’ll always remain at square one. They hadn’t bickered like this when he’d been younger, but they’d also been different people then. The simple truth is, Sonny love Gina, she’s his sister, but he doesn’t especially like her most of the time. He hates that, wishes he could changes it because it makes him feel so guilty but this is where they stand. 

Halfway through their meal--house chopped salad to share, spicy rigatoni vodka for Gina, and veal parmesan for Sonny--she sets her fork down and looks up at Sonny with an expression so miserable that Sonny freezes mid-bite to widen his eyes at her.

“Gina? What’s wrong, is the food not good?

“No, the food is perfect, that’s the problem.”

“I’m not following.”

She bites down on her lip, struggling to find the best way to say what she wants to say. She’s treading on thin ice as it is, Gina knows that, but she’s sitting in this restaurant she’s always wanted to visit and eating some of the best Italian she’s ever had, all because Rafael Barba had wanted her and Sonny to have a good lunch. Knowing what had happened to him, realizing what kind of pain and suffering he must be going through, it leaves Gina feeling numb. 

“Rafael was supposed to be here, too. The fact that he’s at home with stitches in his head and a cast on his wrist, I’m— I just need you to know I’m sorry. I know I’m not always as nice I could be to him, and I’m sorry. Okay?”

Sonny tilts his head at her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Is that what you’ve been sitting here thinking about this whole time? The fact that you’re such a dick to him ninety percent of the time?”

“Oh, shut up, that’s not true.” Gina pauses, pouting before letting out an irritated huff. “It’s more like eighty-five percent. Look, if you want to know the truth, I think you’re perfect for each other. I’ve never seen you happier and when he’s not laughing at his own stupid jokes, he’s always laughing at yours. After Johnny left, I didn’t think I’d ever get that with someone again, you know? I’m still not sure I will. It’s just kind of crappy sometimes.”

The only other person she’s admitted that to is Teresa, and she hadn’t exactly planned to say it to Sonny but she feels obligated to explain herself. She shifts in her chair while Sonny studies her, picking her fork back up only to pick at the food remaining on her plate. 

"I’m hoping you could do me a favor," Sonny finally says. He has a hand wrapped around his sweating glass of water but doesn't make any move to pick it up. "I’ve already asked Teresa and Bella."

 

It’s not the response Gina had anticipated, but she can roll with it. “You never ask us for favors. Must be important.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about Rafael. So it is important.”

"What's the favor?"

Sonny sighs, smoothing a hand over his hair. "The squad pegged the guy who did it. The one who— who hurt him. The plan is to pick him up from his office tomorrow and bring him to the precinct. I got the Lieu to give me permission to be there when they question him."

Gina stares at him blankly for a moment, waiting for him to continue, but she shakes her head in confusion when he doesn't. "Okay. I mean, that's good. That's great. Are you sure you should be there for it, though? I'm not trying to say that you don't know how to control yourself, but you know how protective you get over Rafael. Even before you were dating, those death threats—"

"I can't not be there," Sonny insists, cutting Gina off abruptly. He's already had this argument with Liv, he doesn't want to have it again, and he sure as hell doesn't want to discuss the death threats. Unresolved death threats, Sonny corrects himself, then forces the thought aside. "I'll just be watching from behind the glass. No direct contact at all." Except for when he fantasizes about wrapping his arms around the guy's neck and squeezing until he sees the light go out of Tom fucking Whittaker's eyes.

“Okay. So you’re going to watch them interrogate the guy who beat the hell out of the man you love, and you think it’ll be fine.” Gina holds a hand up to silence her brother, who’s just opening his mouth to counter that. “Just making sure I understand you correctly. Where do we come in?”

There are a hundred different things Sonny wants to say in defense of his choice to be there when Whittaker is brought in, but he can’t seem to think of a single one anymore. It may sound stupid and maybe it is, but he needs to do this because there’s nothing else he _can_ do. He can’t make the arrest, he can’t show up to Whittaker’s office, he’s stuck. Sonny doesn’t like being stuck, particularly not when it comes to the people he loves. 

“Thing is, it hasn't even been a week, I don't want to leave Raf alone. He'll try to leave the apartment, I know he will, and I don't want him to hurt himself doing it.”

"Wait." Gina tilts her head at him, mouth slightly agape. "Are you asking if we'll babysit your sugar daddy?"

"Gina."

"What? It’s not a bad thing." Sonny's nostrils flare, and Gina groans. "Okay, fine, you're asking if we'll keep your boyfriend company."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"So he doesn't accidentally fall down the stairs and break the rest of his limbs."

"Yes. Gina, come on."

"Does he know you're asking me this?"

At that, Sonny looks sheepish. He picks up his fork and puts hit back down again, fiddles with the edges of the napkin in his lap. "No. He doesn't even know that the squad found the guy. I asked the Lieu not to say anything to him yet."

"Sonny." Gina hadn't meant to sound as admonishing as she does, but it's out there now. As protective as Sonny is of his boyfriend, Gina knows that there will be consequences if he keeps this from Rafael. "Sweetie, you have to tell him."

"I— I will, I'm going to," Sonny stammers. He squeezes the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tight. "I know I have to tell him, I just haven't figured out how."

Gina reaches across the table to grasp Sonny's hand, gripping it tight to encourage him to look at her. When he does, she gives him a pointed look, her tone taking on the same lecturing quality Sonny's had earlier. "Listen to me. This isn't the kind of secret you want to keep from him, you understand? I know you hate seeing him hurting, I know you don't want to cause him any more pain, but it'll hurt that much more if he finds out you kept this from him. If they get that guy, and you go to see him while we're playing entertainers for the afternoon while he thinks nothing's going on, that's going to make it worse. Look, we'll come, you know we will. But you have to tell Rafael the truth first."

Sonny stares at his hand in his sister's, his other fist flexing in his lap. She's right, of course she's right. That doesn't make it any easier. The thought of telling Rafael that the man who'd beaten him, who'd nearly been successful in sexually assaulting him, is some prep school, trust fund brat running the show at one of daddy’s hotels makes him sick to his stomach. The fact that Whittaker had probably done what he'd done just for the hell of it, maybe just because he'd been bored that night, makes Sonny want to do things extremely unbecoming of a detective.

"Okay," he finally says. "I'll tell him when I get home. I promise I will."

"Good." Gina releases his hand, then reaches into her purse for her phone. "I'll text Teresa and Bella to let them know I’m in." She glances up to meet Sonny's eyes again, nearly melting at the gratefulness she sees reflected back at her. "We'll take care of him, little brother. He's family."

—

By the time Sonny returns home with bags filled with takeout for Rafael and Lucia, he feels like he’s been hit by a freight train. Lunch with Gina had not gone at all like he’d thought it would but in the end, he thinks it’s turned out for the better. He still hasn’t managed to convince himself that asking Gina to join in on keeping Rafael company tomorrow had been his best idea, but it’s a start. At least Teresa and Bella will be there to act as buffers. 

It isn’t until a little after seven that Lucia excuses herself to return home, planting wet kisses on their cheeks before making Rafael promise to figure out the next best day for her to come back to visit. Once they’re left alone, Sonny sprawls out on the couch with a dramatic groan, opening his arms for Rafael to join him. 

“I seriously thought this day would never end.” He watches his boyfriend carefully for any sign of distress, relieved when he fails to find it. “How’re you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” Rafael admits, “but I’m okay. Good, even.” 

Seeing his mother today had been exactly what he’d needed. Being held by her and fussed over by her is very different from being held and fussed over by Sonny. She’d cried when he’d told her what had happened, had unnecessarily apologized again and again that she hadn’t rushed over here to take care of him to begin with, despite his protests. Eventually, they’d fallen into comfortable silence and she’d stroked his hair while they watched daytime television and Rafael updated her on all the more frivolous things that had happened since they’d last talked, like how Sonny had surprised him at the office with lunch and coffee a few days before the attack to offer encouragement before he was due to give his closing argument for a tough court case. He’d won the case. It’d been a good day. 

“You picked a good one, Rafi,” she’d said. “He loves you so much, I can see it every time he looks at you. I can see it in you, too. You smile differently for him.”

Now that he’s back in Sonny’s arms, Rafael knows that in spite of appreciating the time spent with his mother, this is what he’s been waiting for all day. This is what he loves most, taking comfort in the warmth emanating from Sonny’s body. Maybe he does smile differently for Sonny. He tries it now.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he says, pressing a kiss to the inside of Sonny’s wrist. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Sonny tells him, “you’re all I could think about the whole time I was out with Gina. Don’t think she appreciated it very much when I kept bringing you up when she was trying to talk about whatever new guy she’s seeing.”

“She’s seeing a new guy?”

“Yeah. Jordan something or other. She thinks we should go on a double date sometime.”

Rafael snores at that, glancing up at Sonny skeptically. “If they last long enough, sure.”

Sonny hums his agreement with an amused smirk, kissing Rafael’s temple. “Bella and I are already taking bets on how long it’ll be before they get engaged and break up.”

“That’s terrible. I want in on it.”

“Hey, speaking of my sisters, they’re going to come by for a bit tomorrow if that’s okay with you.”

“What, all of them?” Rafael’s shoulders tense and he zones in on a piece of lint on the couch, reaching to pick at it. “That’s… a lot.”

Sonny cringes at the way Rafael’s entire mood changes, just like that, practically in the blink of an eye. He’s supposed to tell Rafael about Whittaker, he’d told Gina he would. He’s certainly been intending to but it gets harder and harder to find a way to bring it up the more time that passes, especially when even the mere mention of having more people over at the apartment puts Rafael on edge. It’s his own fault, Sonny recognizes that entirely, but at least he still has time. He has until tomorrow afternoon, anyway. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Thing is, I have to go into the precinct for a little bit.” He hears the hitch in Rafael’s breathing and gently smooths down his boyfriend’s hair. “Just for a little bit, sweetheart, I promise, after we get you in with the doctor. We can grab some lunch then get you home, and they’ll come over while I’m gone.”

“So you’re having them babysit me.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, it’s practically the same thing Gina had said, and Sonny sighs because they’re so much more alike than they realize and sometimes that’s a little disturbing. “They’re not babysitting, just keeping you company. I told you, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here alone while you’re still healing.”

“You’re very annoying, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know, but you love me anyway.”

“Will you love me if I end up in a screaming match with Gina?”

“I told her to keep her cool this time,” Sonny promises, “it won’t be anything like Easter.”

“I’m not sure you can guarantee that.”

“This time, I think I can. You should’ve seen her at lunch today. She called you family.”

Rafael’s brows lift at that. “Unprecedented. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say you’ll be okay with them. I wouldn’t go in if I didn’t have to, I swear.”

“I get it. I do.” Rafael pats Sonny’s thigh, gesturing toward the bedroom, more than ready to curl up next to his partner in bed after the long day they’ve both had. 

As Sonny helps him to his feet, Rafael grasps him by the shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. “Just remember, if I end we end up at the precinct because one of us tossed the other out the window, it’s completely your fault.”

Sonny rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible, both of you.”

“Yeah.” Rafael grins. It’s a hell of a sight for sore eyes. “But you love me anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, rafaelbaseball, why'd you feel the need to write 10K OF SONNY AND BARBA HANGING OUT WITH THEIR FAMILY MEMBERS?"
> 
> Well, reader, I wish I could tell ya but the truth is, they do as they please. No, honestly, one of the reasons I wanted to write a fic like this is to examine and explore relationships we've never gotten to see on the show. I have plenty of future scenes coming up like this so hope you don't hate it. The next chapter will include a good chunk of case stuff and move that portion of the story along further so buckle in, friends, it's going to be a bumpy ride for the boys!


	6. knowing nothing is better than knowing at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who’s Tom Whittaker?”
> 
> “Raf, hold on, just let me—”
> 
> “Just say it, Sonny. Please.”
> 
> Shutting his eyes tightly, Sonny sighs, defeated. “He’s the guy. He’s the one who did this to you.”
> 
> “How long have you known?” Rafael’s stomach churns at the way Sonny’s expression clouds over with shame. “Come on, tell me. How long have you known his name while I’ve been hating myself for not being able to remember it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning that there's a bit of description of what happened during Rafael's attack in the interrogation portion of this chapter. It's not especially graphic but if you're uncomfortable with it, I recommend just scrolling a bit past that part.

Rafael swears it's quieter in this exam room now than it'd been the night of his assault. 

There's nothing to be nervous about, he’s distantly aware of that. This is only the first of many follow-ups he’ll have to have to make sure nothing goes wrong in the healing process and today, he’s supposed to be getting at least the majority of the sutures in his head removed. All morning, he’s been trying to keep this clinical, trying to balance acknowledging his attack with ignoring it completely, if only to allow himself to preserve a false sense of normalcy for an hour here or there. 

Being here, though, means there's no possible escape. There's no alternative to thinking about why he's back, and everyone who enters this room will know it. It's the elephant that can't be an elephant when it's the reason for his visit. _That’s_ what makes him so nervous, he thinks, the open invitation for pitying glances and gentle victim speak. He’d barely been able to stand it the first night he’d ended up here and now that he’s fully coherent, Rafael isn’t sure how well how he’ll be able to handle it without snapping at all the people who don't deserve it, people like Sonny, who’s staring blankly at a sign on the wall explaining red flags for heart disease. With a nearly inaudible sigh, Rafael swings his feet against the exam table and when the backs of his shoes sound against metal, it immediately draws Sonny’s attention to him. There’s one mission accomplished. 

"You okay?" Sonny asks, two steps gliding him halfway across the room. 

Sonny’s dressed nicely today: slacks and a crisp white and blue pinstriped button-down paired with a dark gray vest and simple striped tie. He certainly looks out of place in this hospital room, standing next to Rafael, who hadn’t made much of an effort to get dressed to the nines just for his exam. He’d thrown on a simple blue polo and some looser jeans, though he can feel the uncomfortable press of the button against his belly now. It all just reminds him that Sonny has somewhere else to be.

"You didn't have to stay." 

He hadn't meant to say it but there it is, the words laced with a hint of venom for no reason other than Rafael feels like a burden for keeping his partner here.

To Sonny's ears, it's a borderline complaint, and he tilts his head at his boyfriend with a bemused expression as he fiddles with the corner of the badge at his hip. "You want me to leave?"

"That's not what I said." Rafael lifts his chin, trying to appear unbothered. “It’s not like I’m about to have open heart surgery but they’re still going to be doing repeat x-rays and getting the stitches out, might take awhile.”

Sonny steps closer but with caution, so unlike the way he is in the comfort of their own home. It's as if the hospital itself has put up invisible boundaries that are preventing him from being as openly affectionate and doting on his boyfriend as he likes to be, even behind a closed door. Someone could walk in at any second and what would it look like if Sonny's lips were pressed against Rafael's during a visit that's meant to make sure he's doing okay from a sexual assault? He hadn't meant for Rafael to take it as disinterest, if that's even the case. Usually, he's good at reading Rafael’s ever changeable moods but since the attack, Sonny hasn't been quite so on the ball. That's a source of disappointment in itself, he would've liked to think he could act as a better anchor for Rafael but sometimes Sonny feels like he's the one drowning. 

"I'm not being held at gunpoint," Sonny points out, shrugging a shoulder. He's close enough now to reach out and rest a hand on his boyfriend's knee. Rafael only stares down at it. Whether it's an uninvited nuisance or a gesture providing some sort of comfort, Sonny can't be sure. 

"I just mean, I'm sure there's something much more important you could be doing right now.”

"That a fact?"

"Sonny--"

"Stop,” Sonny interrupts, squeezing Rafael’s knee. He hinges at his waist, forcing Rafael to meet his eyes. “Do you remember what you said to me before we went all in? Before you and me were... you know. You and me."

"I hope I was more verbally eloquent at the time than you're being right now," Rafael retorts, but Sonny just looks at him expectantly, and he deflates because of course he remembers. With a sigh that masterfully expresses just how put out he is to be forced to relive the embarrassment of that moment, he continues, "I said I couldn't be with you because that would give me something to lose."

Sonny nods, seemingly satisfied, but keeps pressing. "And what did I tell you?"

It's damn near painful, how hard Rafael rolls his eyes. "What is this, a memorization test?"

"Come on, Raf."

The sincerity is practically dripping from his partner's tone, making it far too difficult to refuse Sonny his request for repetition of something Rafael has never forgotten. In fact, he thinks about their exchange of words often, which he doesn't think is unfair. That conversation is what'd led to this, after all, another thirteen months of development between them, thirteen months to allow Rafael to get used to the idea that Sonny actually gives a damn about him. Every so often, like right now, he's not very convinced he has. 

"You said if you knew what was good for you, you wouldn’t give me a reason to let you go.”

"That's right." Sonny presses a hand against Rafael’s cheek, gently brushing the pad of his thumb over a soft patch of skin. “I know you're scared. No, Raf, it's okay, I know you are. You don’t have to put on a show. I'm not going to run if you fall apart. I'm the one who's going to be there to help put you back together. Doesn't matter how many times it happens, doesn't matter how long it takes, I'm going to be there. You understand me?"

"I may have stitches in the back of my head but that doesn't make me obtuse, Detective Carisi," Rafael says, haughty now, to veil just how deeply Sonny's words have affected him. 

It's not as if they haven't had some form of this conversation more than once already but that doesn't make it any less meaningful when Sonny deems the words true enough to repeat. Whatever inspires Rafael to push, to prod, to test, Sonny meets that with a willingness to _be_ pushed, prodded, and tested. 

They'd shared a considerably drunken evening one night on Sonny's ratty couch, not long after they'd both officially agreed to enter into a long-term relationship (because Sonny had been attached to the idea long before Rafael had ever admitted he was), empty beer bottles and two empty boxes of pizza at their feet. Rafael had waved at their mess, laughing about how he hadn't had a date like this in ages because other people had expected so much more of an ADA. He'd stopped laughing by the time he'd recounted the story of the time a peer, who remains nameless to this day, had turned him over and fucked him hard into the mattress then asked when Rafael would next be getting tickets to _Hamilton_. 

It isn’t a painful memory, Rafael had laughed it off even then; but Sonny had become excessively serious at hearing it, struggling to fold his long legs beneath him on the couch, unbalanced but steadying himself by placing a hand on Rafael's shoulder and making intense eye contact. "I will never ask you for anything like that after we have sex," he'd promised, though it's half-slurred. 

Rafael had smiled easily. "What, only before or in between?" 

"No," Sonny had insisted, "no, the only thing I'll ever ask you to do is love me back."

That'd been the first time Sonny had said it, albeit in a drunken stupor, and Rafael had been rendered speechless for almost half a minute before he'd reached out to thread his fingers gently through Sonny’s hair.

"Say that to me again when we're sober."

They'd fallen asleep together on the couch to a marathon of _I Love Lucy_ and in the morning, before setting out two mugs of coffee and preparing two plates of bacon and eggs, Sonny had pressed a kiss to what he'd thought was a still sleeping Rafael's cheek and whispered, "I love you."

Sonny had said nothing of the fact that it'd taken Rafael another month to build up the courage to finally say it back. 

"So we're good?" Sonny asks, shaking Rafael out of the memory. "You're done trying to make me jump hurdles today?"

"You've won the silver medal this time around," Rafael counters, and he can see Sonny's comeback forming on the tip of his tongue just as the doctor, followed by the nurse who'd led them into the room, strolls through the door. 

"Mr. Barba," the doctor greets, "Detective Carisi. I appreciate your patience, we're running just a little behind today but since this is all routine, I'm confident we'll get you out of here in no time."

"That'd be preferable," Rafael says. "My partner has to get to work but insists on staying so--”

" _It's fine_ , Raf, god.” 

Rafael spots the nurse trying to hide a smile before allowing himself to force one of his own. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

"Right," the doctor agrees, handing the chart he's been studying over to the nurse. "If I could ask you to remove your shirt, I'm just going to do a couple quick tests to see how your ribs are doing."

Rafael had anticipated that, but it's still more difficult than he'd like to admit to disrobe, even in as sterile a setting as this. The only person who's supposed to see him this bare is Sonny, and it's somehow worse now than it'd been at the time of his initial examination. His attacker hadn’t got far enough to get Rafael's clothes off but left uninterrupted, that's what Rafael imagines would have happened. There are all too many possibilities of what could have been done to him, all sorts of scenarios Rafael has turned over in his mind again and again. Never mind the fact that his clothes had remained intact, save for one fucking come stain on his pant leg, undressing in front of someone still makes him uneasy. Nobody comments on the extra beat it takes for him to comply, of course, which somehow seems to draw even more attention to his hesitation; but even Sonny lets Rafael get the shirt off in his own time, without once offering assistance. 

Once the shirt comes off, he makes eye contact with Sonny over the doctor's head, and Rafael can practically see his own pain reflected in his partner's eyes. He looks away when the doctor prods at a particularly painful area at his side, and Rafael lets out a hiss of pain with a ducked head, already feeling his cheeks turning red from humiliation.

“We’ll send you up for some x-rays in a little bit,” the doctor tells him, “just to make sure there haven’t been any complications. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about fractured ribs but let them heal on their own. We’ll do the same for the wrist, get you in a fresh cast. It’s going to take some time to get you back to a hundred percent, but we’ll get you through it.”

“Great.” If Rafael sounds lackluster, the doctor doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he hums while he inspects the back of Rafael’s head. It’s unsettling, irritating, like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Have you been having many headaches? Any nausea? Memory loss?”

“All of the above,” Sonny cuts in, resting a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. It should be light, comforting; instead, Rafael feels its entire weight resting there and he lowers his head to stare at his feet. “He forgot a word the other day. It was just one and it came to him after a minute, but I’d rather mention it than just hope it’s nothing. The meds help with the pain and nausea, though. Right, Raf?”

“Yes,” Rafael mumbles. He can sense Sonny’s frown but doesn’t give his partner the satisfaction of actually looking for it. 

“Okay, Rafael, let’s try this. After you’ve taken some pain relief, what would you say your pain level is overall? Let’s call it a scale of one to ten.”

After a brief second of hesitation, Rafael answers, “I guess a seven. Maybe an eight. Depends on whether I’m moving or not.” Sonny’s hand flexes over his shoulder. It’s not an answer Sonny likes but hell, it’s not an answer Rafael wants to be giving.

“And without the medication?”

Swallowing hard, Rafael winces at the follow-up. “Ten,” he admits. The sharp exhale comes from beside him, he’d been expecting it. He can’t look at Sonny, if he looks at Sonny, Rafael knows what he’ll find in those eyes that are usually so bright. He’ll find hurt and heartbreak and all the kinds of things he doesn’t want to feel responsible for, in spite of the fact that Sonny would never blame him for it. 

It’s not his fault. Inherently, Rafael knows this. He’s tried to repeat to himself like a mantra, had even said it out loud a few times this morning while staring at his battered face in the bathroom mirror with the shower running so Sonny wouldn’t hear him. The shower had washed away the tear tracks that might have otherwise been left behind. It’s not his fault. It feels like his fault.

“Okay,” the doctor says, “we’ll write you a refill for the pain medication. You can take home another prescription for anti-nausea, too, in case you need to take it.”

Rafael almost says he doesn’t want it. The Vicodin already makes him sick, he hates having to take another medication on top of that to fend off the nausea, it’s all so much and it’s a constant reminder of how helpless he really is. Instead, he nods his understanding, relaxing a little under the fingertips that are trailing up and down his spine now. 

The doctor seems to sense Rafael’s frustration and offers an encouraging smile. “You’re on track so far when it comes to healing. Like I said, we’ll get new x-rays and a CT scan for your head but then I think we can get those stitches out without any complications. Lilli here can help prep you for that, and I’ll be back in a bit once you’re all done in radiology.”

By the time Rafael is finished, three hours have passed and he can’t get rid of the ever-deepening pit in his stomach. The results from x-ray and CT look good, he’s told, at least he thinks that’s what’s being said to him because it’s been hours since his last dose of pain meds and he’s losing focus, losing himself in the constant ache of breaks and bruises scattered across his body. He could ask for something, he knows he could, but pride prevents him from doing just that and not for the first time, he curses himself for not being the kind of person who can simply just _ask for help_.

“Now, if anything changes,” the doctor says, peeling his gloves off after removing the last suture, “and the pain or any of your concussion symptoms get worse, don’t stop and think about whether you need to come back. Just come back. Deal?”

“Whatever you say, doc.” The words are empty. Rafael is barely aware that he’s said them.

“That’s what I like to hear. Okay, gentlemen, we’re going to get those prescriptions out to you in a few minutes. Rafael, you can go ahead and change back into your clothes and once you’re all done, you two can take a seat out in the lobby. I’ll see you back here in another week for another set of repeat x-rays.”

Sonny thanks the doctor profusely, his smile grateful until the door shuts behind the nurse. Immediately, his expression morphs back into one of deep concern, and he moves to where the doctor had been standing.

“Talk to me, babe,” Sonny pleads, “are you okay? You’re sounding pretty out of it.”

Rafael’s brow knits, irrational anger bubbling deep in his chest and rising up through his throat. Words, the anger is pushing words out of his mouth, try as he might to resist the urge. “Why did you keep cutting in like that before? I’m not a fucking child, I can speak for myself at a doctor’s visit.”

Taken aback, Sonny drops his hand from where it’d landed on Rafael’s knee to his side, letting his hang loosely, helplessly. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure he had all the facts.”

“And you didn’t think I’d be honest?”

“Of course not, Raf, I just didn’t want to miss anything. I’m sorry if I upset you, I--”

“I’m not upset,” Rafael protests, albeit somewhat weakly. “I just need you to stop mother henning for two seconds so I can _breathe_ , I’m sick of you hanging over every little thing I do every minute of the day. Besides, you have somewhere to be. You should be there. I don’t need you here.”

He regrets saying that as soon as it comes out of his mouth. A flash of hurt passes through Sonny’s eyes, and Rafael wishes he could have taken that hurt on himself, too. It’s all the poking and prodding, he wants to say, everything hurts from being subjected to examination. That’s not an excuse to be like this, he knows that damn well, but it’s the only one he’s got.

“I’m sorry I’ve been hovering too much,” Sonny says, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a step back. “And I told you already, I didn’t plan on going to the precinct until I got you back home so it’s not like you’re keeping me from anything. I’m trying to make sure you get everything you need.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Rafael insists. Hopping down from the exam table isn’t the best way to make his point, the second his feet meet the ground, the impact sends an enormous jolt up pain traveling up from his ribs all the way through his head. He doubles over, gasping, one arm wrapped around his waist with his good hand gripping the edge of the table. 

_Fuck_ this, he thinks, fuck all of this, he wants nothing more than to be done with it. He wants to go back to lunch in his office with Sonny, to laughing without worrying about whether or not it will hurt too much, to being able to think about how much time they have for sex before work in the morning and not chanting “it’s not your fault” to himself in the goddamn mirror. 

His vision starts to clear after another minute, the burst of stars that’d appeared beneath his eyelids fading as he blinks his eyes back open to find Sonny standing beside him with two hands held trembling over his body. With just a slight nod to prompt him, Sonny’s immediately at work, helping Rafael straighten back up as he gains control of his breathing.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sonny tells him, voice firm now, like it’s something he’s just decided he needs to be. “I don’t care if I piss you off, I love you, damn it. I’m going to be here when you need me and even when you don’t need me because that’s what people who love each other do. You can fight me all you want, I can take it, but just know it’s not going to make me walk away, not ever.”

“Sonny…” Rafael trails off, at a loss for what to say, what is there that can be said? He’s sorry, that would be a start, but his mouth has gone dry and so has his throat and all he can do is bury his face against Sonny’s chest with a guttural, heaving sigh. “I hate this.”

“I know, baby,” Sonny says. He holds Rafael tightly, as tightly as he can without doing any damage, trailing kiss along Rafael’s hairline. “I know. I’m right here. I love you so much.”

The sound of the door handle turning disturbs them then but Rafael pays it no mind. He lets Sonny do the talking when the nurse who finds them apologizes, offering them another few minutes for Rafael to get changed and moved to the waiting room. 

“I’m sorry,” he’s finally able to say once they’re alone again. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sonny’s voice is soothing, more soothing than Rafael believes he deserves. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve said worse operating at a hundred percent.”

Rafael can’t help but laugh at that, his shoulders shaking through the pain in his ribs, and he looks up at Sonny through wet, red eyes. “Just take me home after this? I know you wanted to take me to lunch, but I don’t think I can do it. I can’t be around that many people yet, it’s too much.”

“That’s okay. We’ll go home, I’ll make you something there before my sisters come so you can take your meds before I leave. I’m going to stop at the bodega on the corner when I come back from the precinct so you can have a little more than just toast to eat. That sound good to you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s just fine with me.”

\--

Sonny’s phone has buzzed in his pocket no less than ten times since Rafael had broken down in the hospital room and it isn’t until they’re on their way out that he finally checks to see what he’d missed.

Six missed calls and three strings of texts, all from the rest of the squad. Sonny frowns as he opens the most recent text from Liv, eyes widening when he sees what she’s written. 

_Arrested Whittaker. Fin and Amanda on the way back now. Media’s already on it, someone leaked the link to Barba’s assault._

“Shit.”

“What is it?”

There’s a follow-up text. _Take care of him._

Rafael looks at him with curious eyes and Sonny feels his chest tighten because he’d definitely screwed this up. He shouldn’t have waited to tell Rafael about Whittaker. To add that news on top of the morning his boyfriend has had, what the hell had Sonny been thinking? 

“Nothing. Well, something. I’ll explain in the Uber, okay?”

The Uber ride doesn’t happen. 

Just outside the hospital doors is a camera crew-- no, several camera crews, and Rafael is wondering what awful thing has happened now when one reporter catches sight of him and then all of them seem to be turning their way at once. 

"ADA Barba, can we just have a minute of your time please!"

"Just 30 seconds for us, that's it!"

"One soundbyte, Mr. Barba, that's all we're asking!"

Sonny curses under his breath, his grip tightening on Rafael's hand as the news crews surround them. He senses more than sees the way Rafael briefly shrinks against him then pulls away again, Sonny doesn't need to look over to know his boyfriend has probably squared his shoulders at this point, puffed his chest out like he always does for the cameras. Rafael is skilled at preening, it's part of what he does for a living, but that doesn't suddenly make this an easy task for either of them.

"Was it consensual?"

"Can you give us _anything_?"

Each question hits Rafael square in the chest like a bullet, reverberates through him, shakes him to his core, but he remains upright. He keeps his head held high, evidence of what had been done to him purposely made available for full display. The array of colors sweeping across his cheek and jaw and under his eye is like gold to the photographers, so is the shot of the usually sharply dressed ADA and his supportive partner holding hands fresh out of a doctor's visit, and Rafael is okay with that because he has to be. There's no choice but to make peace with it. He'd avoided this, somehow, up until this point, the fact that he's finally facing it now isn't the surprise. 

"There won’t be any comment from either of us right now," Rafael announces, "we only ask that you respect our privacy."

The clamor of the reporters doesn’t end, Rafael’s words only make them shift their attention to Sonny, whose eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"Detective, have you confronted Tom Whittaker about what he's accused of doing?"

"Over here, Detective Carisi, what do you--"

"He said no further comment," Sonny tells them, tugging Rafael through a gap in the crowd. He hears groans of disappointment behind them and the continued flashes of cameras but nobody follows and for that, he's relieved. They may be looking for an exclusive but at least these reporters know how to leave well enough alone. Most of them are somewhat familiar faces, he’s seen them outside the courthouse, they know better than to piss off the ADA who’s almost always willing to throw them a bone.

Only once they've walked a block and turned a corner does Sonny gently urge his boyfriend to rest his back against a wall underneath a construction shroud that's clearly been up for too long, considering the sunlight peeking through its tears, but it keeps their faces shadowed well enough so he can properly look Rafael over without any unwanted attention. He runs his hands over the length of Rafael's shoulders, down strong arms until they're resting on Rafael's hips. "You okay?"

Rafael's breathing comes shallow, his ribs are aching from their quick pace to get away, but he swallows hard and nods. "More or less."

"More with the more or more with the less?"

"More. Or. Less."

Sonny can't help but smirk at the attitude then presses a kiss to Rafael's forehead. "Someone must have tipped the press off that we were there. I'm sorry."

There’s silence between them for a moment but then Rafael asks the question that makes Sonny freeze.

“Who’s Tom Whittaker?”

“Raf, hold on, just let me—”

“Just say it, Sonny. Please.”

Shutting his eyes tightly, Sonny sighs, defeated. “He’s the guy. He’s the one who did this to you.”

“How long have you known?” Rafael’s stomach churns at the way Sonny’s expression clouds over with shame. “Come on, tell me. How long have you known his name while I’ve been hating myself for not being able to remember it?”

“A couple days.”

“A couple days,” Rafael echoes. “Right. Okay, then.”

Sonny blinks, briefly dumbfounded when Rafael simply drifts away, his limp still pronounced and every step likely bringing him agony. For a moment, Sonny remains rooted in place, watching his boyfriend head further and further alone down the block, and it isn’t until he nearly loses sight of Rafael’s head bobbing in the crowd that he can find the drive to get moving. 

He doesn’t know what he’d expected. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected this at all, Sonny had been so certain he’d have the time to gently break the news of Whittaker’s identity before going in to watch the questioning. Whoever the hell had leaked that information to the press is officially on Sonny’s shit list but that’s not his primary concern right now. Rafael hadn’t wanted to make a public scene, of course he hadn’t, especially not about this; but there’s still something more horrific about the silence, about the blankness he’d found in Rafael’s eyes. Sonny knows he must just be processing it, turning the name over in his mind to see if it triggers an admittedly unwanted memory, but Rafael is still walking as fast as his body will allow him so Sonny has to suspect that hasn’t happened. 

That will hurt worse. Knowing the name and still not being able to recall all the events of the night, whether he wants to or not, that’s going to be hard for Rafael, who always prefers to have all the facts possible. 

Sonny chastises himself for not speaking up earlier, he should’ve said something this morning or on the way to the hospital or just before leaving, or the second Liv had told him. All he’d wanted to do was protect Rafael, that’s all he ever wants to do, and he finds it increasingly frustrating that he keeps screwing that up. 

By the time he catches up with Rafael, they’re standing outside of a busy cafe, and Sonny can’t help but notice the guarded way Rafael is standing. He isn’t sure whether that’s because of the pain or the revelation but either way, his instinct draws him nearer, one hand reaching out to rest a hand against his boyfriend’s hip. Sonny takes it as a good sign that Rafael lets him keep it there. 

“Raf—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now. I want to go home.”

“Okay, I’ll take you—”

“ _No_ , Sonny. I can handle myself, I’ll get there on my own.”

“Rafael, please. I know you’re upset with me, you have every right to be and we can deal with that but let me get you back.”

“You should get to the precinct. That’s the real reason you’re going, right? Whittaker’s there.”

“Yeah. Yes. I should have been honest with you from the start but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You know how to tell me? Just _tell_ me.” With a disgusted sigh, Rafael waves his hand dismissively. “You know what, just go. Please. I’ll let you know when I’m home, I’ll let your sisters in, but I need time away from you, okay? I need you to leave me alone.”

Leave him alone. 

Leave him alone. 

The problem is, Sonny doesn’t know how to do that. Even before they’d gotten together, long before that, Sonny had gone to great lengths just to find excuses to spend time around Rafael. Getting his opinion on cases had turned into sticking around his office to share a kiss, delivering coffee to him had become taking him out for a lunch date. 

Sonny hasn’t ever once put leaving Rafael Barba alone into practice. 

“Raf. Sweetheart. I need you to understand, just let me explain.”

“Sonny, I’m begging you.” Rafael takes a few steps back, hands held up in front of him as if in mock surrender. “If you keep talking, it’s just going to make things worse right now so just let me go. We’ll discuss it when you get home.”

Rafael doesn’t let Sonny get another word in before turning on his heels and walking away. 

—

When Sonny arrives at the precinct, his mind is still somewhere else. More specifically, it’s back on a busy sidewalk with Rafael, and he desperately wants to give this interrogation his full attention but that’s proving to be difficult when he can’t even get a text back confirming his boyfriend had made it home okay. 

He shouldn’t have let Rafael go back alone. He shouldn’t have let Rafael walk away. He shouldn’t have kept the damn truth from him. 

“Carisi.”

Liv’s voice should be a comfort but in this moment, it makes him feel like a vice has tightened around his throat and he looks over at her, a little dazed, licking his suddenly very dry lips. She frowns at him but if she notices his distress, she doesn’t say anything about it. He’s grateful for that, at least, Sonny isn’t sure he wants to rehash all the things he’s done wrong the past couple days with his boss.

“We’ve got him in Room Two, Amanda and Fin are going to get started in a couple minutes. You’re sure you want to be here to see this?”

Sonny only nods, which seems to be good enough for Liv, and he’s just barely stepped into the watch room before skidding to a stop at who he finds waiting there. 

“Edra?”

Edra Kim glances up from her Samsung Galaxy then does a double take once she recognizes him. “Sonny! You’re honestly the last person I expected to see here, I thought you’d be home with Rafael.”

“I didn’t realize you were planning on being here for this, Counselor,” Liv interjects. Her expression remains neutral but Sonny can hear the tension in her tone and he knows it’s because his being here might just seem like a little bit of a problem to someone from the DA’s office. 

“I’ve been assigned to Rafael’s case,” Edra explains. Her Korean accent is slight but still somewhat noticeable, her hair jet black and cut in a faux bob just beneath her ears, which is a new look that suits her petite frame nicely. It’d been much longer when Sonny had met Edra and her husband for the first time at the DA’s annual Christmas party. He notices she’s no longer wearing her ring. “I just happened to hear about the arrest, I thought it would be best to come down and hear what Whittaker has to say for myself.” She fixes Sonny with what he’s certain is a challenging stare, a slight lift to her brow. “What about you?”

Sonny considers lying, considers saying he’s here to do paperwork and walking right out of the room but he catches sight of Tom Whittaker looking bored out of his mind on the other side, and he can’t. He can't walk out now. “I needed to be here,” he says, forcing himself to look back at Edra. “I needed to hear it myself, too. For Rafael. Please.”

Edra’s gaze flickers between Sonny and Liv. For a split second, Sonny thinks she might stick to protocol and order him to get the hell out but instead, she nods. “Okay, fine. You were never here, understand?”

“I do,” Sonny promises, “I do, thank you.”

—

“He _what_?”

Rafael grimaces from his spot on the couch, one arm reaching over the back of the seat while the other rests at his side, a position he’d just recently found to be somewhat relieving for his ribs. “Gina--”

“No,” Gina snaps, clapping her hands together loudly enough to make everyone in the room wince. “No, he’s an idiot, I _told_ him to tell you the truth, I can’t believe he waited until the _day of_ to do it.”

Teresa glances up at her sister from her knitting, a new hobby she’d picked up once Mia had left for college. It’s a scarf, she’d explained, she’s still deciding who it’s for but once she’s figured it out, she plans to add that person’s initials to the corner of the finished product. It’s a sweet idea, but Rafael hopes she doesn’t end up giving it to him because the colors are all wrong. 

Orange and purple. Why?

“I’m sure he had a reason, Gina,” she says calmly. “You know Sonny, he hates to do anything that might hurt someone.”

“He’s still an idiot,” Gina argues, gesturing at Rafael. “You don’t think Rafael deserves to know the truth about his own case?”

“That’s not what Teresa is saying,” Bella cuts in, lifting her head up from Rafael’s lap and pushing herself up on her elbows. “Sonny would never intentionally hurt Rafael, I think we can all agree on that. _Right_?” Once everyone has mumbled their agreement, including Rafael, she continues, “See? He was probably just waiting for the right time, it just never came.” She pauses again, leaning her head back to look at Rafael. “Speaking of which, have you texted him back yet?”

Rafael narrows his eyes. “I have not.”

Bella groans. Teresa _tsks_. Gina, thankfully, remains silent, looking as if she’s been validated in some way.

“I will eventually,” Rafael adds defensively, “can I please just have a little bit of time to be angry with him? Everyone was in the loop except for me, and it’s because he asked you all to keep quiet about it. I know he loves me, I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, but I’m allowed to be upset about that, whether he had good intentions or not.”

To his satisfaction, that effectively renders all three Carisi sisters silent, and he breathes a sigh of relief when Bella settles back down in his lap while Teresa returns to her knitting and Gina sips on her tea while fixing her gaze on the television screen. 

Nearly a full minute passes before Bella speaks up again. 

“Could you at least tell him you made it home okay and we fed you and gave you your meds? Maybe throw in there that we’re taking really good care of you? I just feel like that would make him stop texting the rest of us every three seconds.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, hand me my damn phone.”

\--

_I’m okay. The Sanderson Sisters are taking care of me. They fed me edible soup and meds._

An enormous weight lifts from his shoulders once Sonny sees the text. Air rushes out from his chest and he allows himself to smile for the first time since leaving Rafael behind, and he quickly shoots back a response.

_Did you just call my sisters witches? I love you._

Sonny can see Rafael already working on his reply and he knows he should be paying more attention to what’s happening on the other side of the glass but his stomach has been in knots for the better part of the last half hour. Knowing Rafael is not only willing to talk to him again but make dumb jokes is a bigger relief than Sonny could ever possibly hope to express.

_Okay, maybe just one of them. But even she’s been great. It’s almost like someone went out of their way to ask her to be nice to me._

Sonny nearly laughs out loud at that, though the next text levels him again.

_I love you, too._

Liv watches her detective’s attention shift between the interrogation and his phone, debating over whether or not she should lecture him in front of Kim. He’s the one who’d insisted on being here, he should be giving the interrogation his full attention, but then Carisi pockets the phone and the wind leaves her sails. 

She can only imagine what's going through Carisi's mind now. Seeing Whittaker sitting there in the interrogation room, looking like he doesn't have a care in the world, makes her own blood pressure rise. The man looks every part the rich boy out of prep school, with his perfectly coiffed dirty blonde hair and pressed, tailored suit and just-back-from-vacation tan. The only thing ruining the whole picture is the dark bruise under his right eye. Liv seeks justice for her friend, but Carisi is here in invisible defense for someone he loves. To think of it in those terms still feels foreign, not because she has a problem with Barba and Carisi's relationship but because they've both always been so good at keeping their work and personal lives separate. In the precinct and the courthouse, they are not a couple in a loving relationship, they're two professionals doing their jobs. Today, Carisi isn't here to be a detective. He's here as a boyfriend. 

"I should probably be calling my lawyer," Whittaker's saying, his voice slightly morphed through the microphone and flooding the room. There's a nonchalance to his tone, a smugness that makes Liv's skin crawl. She hears a mildly amused hum coming from Kim on her right.

"If that's what you want to do, just do it," Amanda tells him. She sounds just about the right level of bored. Liv approves.

"Yeah, if you've got something to hide then better get someone in here to hold your hand," Fin adds.

"I don't have anything to hide," Whittaker insists, a harder edge to his tone now. He sits up a little straighter, places his palms face up on the table like he's reaching for forgiveness that isn't coming. "This is all just a misunderstanding, really. Let's just get it cleared up."

Carisi huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "This guy's a moron," he says, briefly glancing at Liv and Kim before returning his gaze to Whittaker. "He's really that arrogant. He really thinks he can make this go away on his own. Piece of crap."

Liv doesn't disagree, but she doesn't say anything, either. With his sleeves rolled up, Carisi looks ready for a fight. She can practically feel her detective seething from where he stands, Carisi with one hand pressed against the glass as if he might be able to reach through and take Whittaker by the throat. His other hand is clenched into a fist at his side. Liv wonders if maybe this hadn't been such a good idea, letting him be here, letting him watch while Whittaker likely places the blame of Barba's assault on Barba himself. A glance at Kim tells her the ADA is thinking the exact same thing.

Carisi is protective of the squad, it's charming and endearing in its own way; but when it comes to Barba, there's no holding him back. Any disparaging comment is met with a sharp look, a quick retort, but for the most part, it's good-natured. Amanda likes to rile her partner up every once in awhile and frankly, Fin tends to find it amusing, too. Liv doesn't usually partake in that, but she's teased Barba about it more than once. Barba has only ever smirked at Liv referring to Carisi as his knight in shining armor. In a lot of ways, Liv thinks Barba probably agrees with that assessment, even if he might not admit that to anyone out loud.

 

He’s fine, Liv tries to convince herself. Carisi may be fueled by rage right now, but he wouldn't risk Barba's case. Not for anything.

"Why don't you just tell us what happened, hmm?" Amanda asks. "Step by step."

"Okay, fine. I approached Rafael at the bar, I offered to buy him a drink. I told him I recognized him from TV and the media, that I supported the work he's doing. He declined the drink and yeah, it kind of stung. I don't get told 'no' a lot, okay?"

Liv cringes at that. She hears Carisi's sharp intake of breath. Kim remains silent, staring thoughtfully through the glass.

"He left, I paid my tab and followed him out. I just wanted to apologize for coming on strong, that's all. I thought maybe he was offended because he was dating someone, that blond detective, isn't he SVU?"

"What happened next?" Fin presses.

"When I got outside, I stopped him, asked if I could just talk to him for a couple minutes to explain. We went into the alley next to the bar. He said he was sorry, that he wanted to accept my offer in the bar but too many people recognized him. I swear he wanted me to follow him outside."

"Son of a bitch," Carisi mutters. "He's lying."

"We all know that, Carisi," Liv says softly, coming up behind the detective and resting a gentle hand on his tense back.

"I kissed him," Whittaker says, shrugging a shoulder. "He kissed me back. It got heated, he said he wanted more so I gave him more. I didn't hear any objections. It was consensual."

"No objections," Fin echoes. "Uh-huh. ADA Barba ended up at the hospital that night with a concussion. Is that the kind of 'more' you're talking about?"

"I had nothing to do with the concussion. He said he wanted to watch me touch myself before he let me blow him, I thought that was hot so I did it. I took my pants off, got started, then out of nowhere, some asshole comes up from behind me and shoves me into him. Rafael hit his head pretty hard, got knocked out. "

“There were stains on his pants,” Amanda says, tilting her head at him. “Care to explain how they got there?”

Whittaker’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he squirms in his seat. “I came on him, okay? I guess in all the excitement, I finished, sue me. I tried to fight the other guy off but he hit me hard, that’s how I got this shiner.”

"Mr. Whittaker," Amanda says, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table. "Can you roll up your sleeves for us, please?"

"Why?"

"Just humor us."

Whittaker does. Liv watches the man's resolve shake when he reveals scratches on both arms. She thinks of Barba, struggling under Whittaker's grip, doing whatever he could to get himself out of the situation or at the very least, gain some kind of evidence from it. Had he given up at that point? Had he just resigned himself to what was happening and decided all he could do was get his attacker's DNA? She looks at Carisi and knows he's wondering the same thing.

Whittaker's quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as quickly as Liv imagines his mind must be. Slowly, he lowers his hands back into his lap and lifts his chin up in a show of misplaced defiance. "Look, I didn’t hurt him. After the other guy slugged me, I was out of it for a little bit and when I got back up, the guy was beating on Rafael so I chased him out of the alley. Couldn’t catch up with him. Don’t know if he was high or aiming to mug us or what. Anyway, by the time I came back, Rafael was already gone."

“Right. Well, Mr. Barba is telling a very different story," Amanda tells him, leaning back in her chair. "He says it wasn't consensual. He says you dragged him into that alley and bashed his head against that wall, that you then proceeded to try to force him to perform oral sex on you and beat him when he refused." She points at the scratches. "Your DNA was found under his fingernails. You finished on him. We have that DNA, too. You know what I think? I think you fractured his wrist and three of his ribs. I think you gave him that concussion. I think he asked you to stop and like you said, you’re not used to being rejected. You want to tell us again that this was consensual? Or maybe you thought he'd be too humiliated to say anything different."

Whittaker’s expression hardens, his hands tightening into fists on the table. “I think I’d like to call that lawyer now.”

"Before you dig yourself a deeper hole?" Fin nods, pushing himself up from his chair with a heavy sigh. "You do that. We’ve heard enough."

Whittaker is left staring after the detectives with a slack jaw, and Liv watches with satisfaction as the realization sets in on the guy’s face that this isn't just going to go away. She'd read up on Whittaker's file, she knows he's used to his father cleaning up his messes. Whittaker’s record is clean, but Liv suspects that's only because his family has the money to make things like DUIs and misconduct disappear. They're in for a nasty surprise this time around, she'll make sure of that. 

Amanda and Fin leave the interrogation room, and Amanda immediately focuses her attention on Carisi, offering a small, uncomfortable smile. "Hey. You okay after that?"

"I'm fine." 

The answer comes too quickly, and Carisi seems to know it. He crosses his arms over his chest. It's a defensive maneuver, a way of closing himself off to the rest of the squad. Liv wishes he wouldn't feel the need to do that. They're all in this for the same reason, to do everything in their power to put Barba's attacker away. There's a tough road ahead, she can already think of a dozen obstacles that will stand in their way, but they're not lacking evidence. They have a case. As long as they don't let Whittaker or his family gain the upper hand, they'll be seeing Whittaker off to jail.

"He's full of it," Fin offers, clapping a hand down on Carisi's shoulder. "We all know that. His story's weak, nobody would look at what he did to Barba and believe any second of it was consensual. We got it locked, Carisi." Fin looks to Kim, who’s been surprisingly silent throughout the whole ordeal. “Isn’t that right, Counselor?”

Kim’s smile is genuine but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m optimistic,” she says cautiously. “You and Rafael should try to be, too.”

"Yeah," Carisi murmurs, his eyes lowering to his shoes.

He's thinking the same thing Liv is, she's sure of it. What if this gets to trial? What if Whittaker manages to flash his pearly whites and make a jury believe the story he’s just cooked up? What if he gets to walk after what he's done because he happens to be a charming, rich trust fund baby from the Upper East Side? Liv had learned a long time ago not to wallow in the 'what ifs' like she’d told Carisi because there's no real sense of hope there. She has to believe that this will work out in their favor, that they'll get Barba the justice he deserves. Now it's just a matter of convincing Carisi to believe that, too, if only because Barba doesn't need to be exposed to any sense of doubt when it comes to the outcome of his case.

"He's going to ask how it went." Sonny doesn't need to clarify, but he does anyway. "Rafael, I mean. I'm supposed to tell him that the guy who almost raped him is saying he wanted it." He visibly shudders, like the thought of hurting Barba in that way is too awful a thought to even consider. Liv's heart goes out to him. She exchanges a look with Amanda, neither of them quite sure how to comfort Carisi, but Fin's already shaking his head.

"Nah, you tell Barba we're going to nail this guy. You tell him there's no way he loses this one, not with all the evidence on our side and the bullshit story Whittaker's got on his. You tell him we're all on his side, and we're not going anywhere. That's what you tell him."

Carisi meets Fin's eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small, grateful smile that's enough to bring out his dimples. "Yeah, that does sound a lot better than my thing," he concedes with a dry laugh. His gaze settles on Liv and Kim then. "Thank you for letting me be here. I know it wasn't exactly following procedure, but I just needed to see him for myself."

"I understand," Liv tells him. "Thank you for not kicking the door down and trying to kill our suspect."

"The temptation was there," Carisi admits.

"It was there for all of us," Amanda tells him sincerely. Coming from her, Liv thinks, that means something. She's not particularly close to Barba, but she does care about Carisi. Liv knows she doesn't really comprehend the complexities of Carisi and Barba's relationship, but she's never once been vocal about that or any kind of skepticism she might have about the couple's longevity. Whether that's because she's free of it or just doesn't anticipate a good reaction, Liv isn't sure. Either way, she's proud to see Amanda band with them for their ADA. 

Carisi nods, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Okay, well, I should get back home. My sisters are probably driving Rafael nuts by now. I don't know what I was thinking, leaving him alone with them, it's pretty much equivalent to throwing him to the wolves."

Liv chuckles at that, waving him off. "Go save him. We'll keep you posted on Whittaker."

"Thanks, Lieu," Carisi says. "Thanks to all of you, I know Rafael would want to say that, too."

With a final nod, Carisi slips out the door. Amanda and Liv both let out deep breaths while Fin's expression hardens as he looks back through the glass at Whittaker, who seems to have regained his composure. Kim, for her part, is already furiously typing away on her phone.

"I got a feeling this is going to be a bumpy ride," Fin says.

Liv can't help but feel the same way.

\--

A mere hour into spending time with the Carisi sister, Rafael had excused himself to the bedroom, claiming nausea and fatigue, neither of which had actually been true ailments until now. 

It’d started just a few minutes ago and he’s been taking the deepest breaths he can manage to keep himself from rolling over onto his side and hurling all over their polished wood floors. _Family Feud_ is on mute on the TV but Rafael stares at the ceiling, swallowing hard as beads of sweat rolls down from his temples and unshed tears gather in his eyes. 

Sonny has already seen him through this, it’s been just days since the attack had happened but this is already old hat. The anti-nausea pills are tucked away in the drawer of his nightstand but Rafael has tried to avoid having to take them as much as possible. For the most part, he finds he’s able to get past it. Today, after trying out some chicken noodle soup for lunch, his stomach seems to be doing its best to defy him. 

It takes another couple waves of nausea before Rafael finally gives in and rushes to the toilet to empty the contents of his stomach, his ribs aching terribly from the strain and those tears involuntarily falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t hear the door to the bedroom open, doesn’t notice the footsteps behind him, and the hand that lands gently on his shoulder startles him with a yelp that echoes off the bathroom walls. 

“Oh, Rafael, I’m so sorry.”

Bella. She looks at him not with pity but like she’s in agony at the sight of him like this. It’s not a look Rafael likes to see on her, and he ducks his head to try to hide the blotchiness and tear tracks on his face. 

“I’m okay,” he tells her. He knows he doesn’t sound convincing, certainly looks even less so. “Really, Bella, I’m okay. I just needed to get it out, my stomach’s not used to much more than toast yet so I--”

“You don’t have to explain,” she tells him, stroking her fingers softly through his hair. She helps him settle back against the wall, one of his arms draped over his abdomen and he tries to work through the pain simply breathing brings. She flushes the toilet, putting the top down, then returns her full attention to him with a sympathetic smile. “I wish you’d said something. You know, when I was pregnant, I would always tell Tommy when I had my morning sickness and he’d hold my hair back for me every time.”

It’s a distraction tactic. It works.

“Tommy’s a good man,” Rafael tells her. 

“So are you,” she says. “He wanted to come today, he’s always looking for a way to repay you for what you did for us, but if Tommy came then Izzy would have to come and I told him we’d already be crowding you as it is.” She sits cross-legged in front of him, taking his good hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over his skin just like Sonny always does. “We have to get together soon, when you and Sonny have time. We should really do more family dinners.”

“Family dinners,” Rafael echoes, a faint smile lifting at the corners of his mouth. “That would be good, Bella. I’d like that, we’ll make time.”

—

When Sonny walks through the door of the apartment, he’s with more than a little trepidation. Rafael had come across as forgiving via text but that doesn’t mean the same will be true in person. He deserves Rafael’s anger, Sonny doesn’t deny that; but all he wants is to be able to take his boyfriend in his arms and promise him this will all be over soon. 

“Sonny, you're back!" 

He can’t help but smile when he sees Bella pop up from her spot on the couch beside Rafael, though it falters suspiciously when he realizes she sounds almost accusatory. Gina and Teresa, too, are practically glaring at him over Rafael's head, and Sonny just manages to stop himself before demanding what the hell their collective problem is. Rafael, on the other hand, cranes his neck to look at him with a serene but amused smile and just like that, any defensiveness Sonny feels fades away. If Rafael looks happy, that can't mean anything terrible has happened so whatever this is, whatever his sisters are playing at, he can let go.

"Don't sound so happy about it," Sonny retorts, shrugging off his jacket off and hanging it on the rack next to the doorway. He loosens his tie as walks further into the living room, eyeing the array of needles and thread and colored pencils that have been laid out over the decorative art book from MoMA on their coffee table. Then he spots the coloring book on Rafael's lap and drops his jaw at his youngest sister. "Did you seriously bring my boyfriend a coloring book? Bella, I know you're a mom, but he's not three."

"It's supposed to help with stress," Bella argues, "and it was Teresa's idea. I brought the stuff for cross-stitching, too, but, uh..." She trails off, glancing guiltily at Rafael. "Well, I forgot that one of us had a broken wrist."

"Too bad," Rafael adds, "I was so looking forward to learning."

Sonny sees Gina duck her head to hide a laugh at of the corner of his eye, but Bella looks so pleased since she'd apparently missed Rafael's sarcasm that he doesn’t have the heart to point it out to her. 

"Well, maybe next time, Raf," Sonny says, leaning over the back of the couch to press a kiss to his boyfriend's temple. "Sorry to interrupt all the fun, but you want to join me in the kitchen for a minute?"

Rafael studies Sonny's expression for a few seconds before finally nodding. "Of course." He cautiously pushes himself upright, ignoring Bella's hovering hands the same way Sonny tries to ignore how the effort makes Rafael break into a sweat. "Ladies, can we bring you back anything to drink?"

All three of Sonny's sisters decline, and Bella looks disappointed when she sits back down, this time sitting closer to Gina, presumably so they can all gossip once Sonny and Rafael have left the room. It comes as no shock to hear a quiet titter of conversation behind him when Sonny leads the way into the kitchen.

"So how'd it go?" Rafael asks. 

Sonny can't be surprised. Rafael has always been quick to cut to the chase. "The guy's a prick," Sonny tells him. "Entitled, arrogant. He says everything was consensual, that some random guy attacked you both then ran off. Before you say anything, we all know that's a lie."

"Of course it is," Rafael snaps, though he immediately looks contrite. "The evidence--"

"Is in our favor," Sonny finishes, stepping forward to close the gap between them so he can cup his boyfriend's cheeks and give Rafael a proper kiss. "We are not letting him get away with this. He's not going to be able to use daddy's money to buy himself out of this one, I promise. We got him, Raf. I know it's going to be rough going, but Fin said to remind you we're all on your side."

"Fin said that, did he?" Rafael hums, though he seems pleased to hear that. He sighs then, leaning his forehead against Sonny's shoulder. "I'm exhausted."

"What'd my sisters do to you? Do I need to give them a serious lecture later?"

"No, they really have been great," Rafael says, and Sonny can feel him smile through the layer of clothing that separates them. "Even Gina, she's only made a handful of near-offensive remarks since she got here, that's showing true restraint. Be honest, you did ask her to be nice, didn’t you?”

Their conversation at Carbone yesterday had probably knocked a few things into perspective, Sonny thinks. Maybe it's hard to view Rafael as a victim of sexual assault but Sonny hadn't wanted to risk his sister's penchant for insensitivity to trigger something in Rafael. It's too soon after what'd happened, they're still too close to the events of that night, the risk for Rafael spiraling into post-traumatic stress is all too present. They both know it, no matter how much they try to maintain a sense of normalcy at home. Nothing about this has been normal. 

"I plead the fifth," Sonny says, leaning back to get a better look at Rafael. More than just the physical, it’s the emotional aspect of all this Sonny is most worried about. The external injuries will heal, but Rafael is an ADA who handles sex crime cases. Everyone reacts to being victimized differently, and Sonny knows Rafael will force himself to carry on like nothing about this bothers him. Rafael always has to be fine, he always has to be the paradigm of composure, but this is different. This is unchartered territory for both of them. 

"You know I can read every thought you're having right on your face, right?" Rafael asks gently.

Sonny's eyes widen, though he breaks into a grin. "Yeah? You got a psychic hotline I don't know about now, too?"

"I know you're worried," Rafael says, ignoring the joke. "I know you wish you could make this go away. I also know that no matter which way this goes, we're going to be in for a fight. I told you and Liv before, I'm prepared for that. I was being serious when I said I'd be willing to take this to trial. What that-- what _Whittaker_ did to me, I can't forgive it, Sonny. I don't know how long it'll take for me to stop thinking about it every minute of the day, but I know I’ll never forgive it."

"Neither will I," Sonny agrees. He brushes his fingertips over the bruise against Rafael's cheek. The bright overhead light of the kitchen makes it all the more stark against Rafael's skin, and Sonny can't help but let out a deep sigh of frustration. "Listen, about earlier--”

“Don’t. I wish you’d told me, but I know you were just trying to protect me. Just… don’t keep anything else like that from me again.”

Sonny nods. “I won’t. I swear. I promise, Raf, Whittaker’s going to pay for hurting you. I'm going to be there right next to you when we watch him get put away."

"I hope so," Rafael says. "I really hope so." They're quiet for a moment, Rafael's head tilted back just slightly so he can hold Sonny's gaze. There's nothing more to say right now yet in their silence, they're saying everything. 

_I'm not going anywhere._

_I know._

"You two done making out in there or what?" a voice calls from the living room. _Gina._

Rafael and Sonny groan in unison, and Sonny shouts back, "Come on, give us two minutes, would you?" 

"Remember, they were very good to me today," Rafael reminds him, smoothing his hands down over Sonny's vest. "And I may or may not have invited them to stay for dinner. I also may or may not have volunteered you to cook for us."

Sonny has to restrain himself for rolling his eyes, instead settling for another peck to Rafael's lips. "You're all lucky I love you guys, you know that?"

"I do know that," Rafael confirms, smirking. "There's enough in the fridge for a bolognese, you should get to work. I've got a coloring book and three Carisi sisters to get back to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the length of time between updates! I occasionally go through my bouts of "nobody even wants to read this" syndrome so I appreciate your patience. This is another long chapter but I hope you enjoy as we start to get more into the case portion of the fic! Let me know what you think, thank you so much for reading <3


	7. the world is beating you down, i'm around through every move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Listen, I'm sorry," Sonny says, knowing the context doesn't need to be there for it to make sense, and watches for a reaction. “I’m trying so hard to do right by you but I keep putting my foot in my mouth.”
> 
> Rafael only rolls his eyes, reaching for a spoon to dip into his soup. "You were about ready to stab a butter knife into that asshole’s jugular for me, I think I can forgive you for putting your foot in your mouth.”
> 
> “I’m serious, Rafael.” He inches forward in his seat until his chest hits the edge of the table and he reaches out to brush his fingers against Rafael’s. The cast is in the way of being able to take that hand in his like he wants to, every day he looks at it and wishes he could get his hands on Tom fucking Whittaker and break every bone in the bastard’s body; but he takes a breath, finding calm in Rafael’s big, green eyes, eyes that don’t show a trace of resentment anymore. Thank God for that. “I just-- I love you. So much. Okay?”

In the two days that have passed since discovering Tom Whittaker’s name, Rafael has been unusually quiet, even considering the circumstances. Phone conversations with his mother and Liv had lasted barely five minutes a piece this morning before Rafael had thrown in the towel, petulantly shoving the phone into Sonny’s hands before the calls had even ended. 

It’s worrisome. Sonny watches Rafael now, sitting at an awkward angle on the couch with his eyes downcast and staring blankly at the floor, and it makes him feel like his stomach is twisting into knots. It’ll get worse before it gets better, that’s what people keep telling him: Rafael’s doctor, Amanda, Bella, their elderly widowed neighbor Mrs. Petersen, all of them. “It’ll get worse before it gets better.” Sonny wonders when the getting better part is supposed to begin. 

“Hey, babe,” Sonny call out. He keeps his voice low, he doesn’t know why. The quiet is rubbing off on him. “What do you want to try eating for lunch? It’s almost time for your meds.”

“Not hungry.”

Not this again. Sonny purses his lips, biting back words born of frustration reading at the tip of his tongue. 

“Come on, Raf, we’ve been over this,” he answers steadily, “you have to eat with those meds, I don’t make the rules.”

“They’ll put me to sleep.”

Sonny frowns, his brow knitting in confusion. “That might not be such a bad thing. You should be resting.”

“All I do is rest.” Rafael pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I’m sick of _resting_.”

It’s not just that. Sonny doesn’t find it difficult to believe Rafael is getting restless being stuck at home for the vast majority of the last week but he looks agitated, uncomfortable like he’s holding something back. 

“Rafael. What’s this really about?” Sonny watches Rafael turn his face away, which is as good a confirmation as any that his instincts here had been right. He steps closer with his hands tucked in his pockets, careful not to invade his boyfriend’s space in this moment, such a delicate moment. They’ve been having a lot of those lately. “You know you can talk to me. If you don’t want to do that right now, I’ll back off, I’ll wait. I’m not going anywhere. But if you want to tell me what’s going on, I’m right here for you.”

The silence between them lasts for so long, Sonny is about ready to turn on his heels to take his frustrations out on making lunch in the kitchen but then Rafael’s looking at him again and clearing his throat.

“I started having dreams about it.” He hesitates. “Well, more like nightmares, I guess.”

Ah. Sonny has been waiting for this, he’s honestly surprised Rafael hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat from a nightmare the night he’d been attacked, but there’s no accounting for how his boyfriend’s mind works. He just wishes he’d pick up on it sooner. 

“Oh, Raf. How long?”

“Since after the follow-up. The cameras, finding out his name, all of that. I closed my eyes that night and couldn’t stop picturing his face. What he did to me. What it’ll do to me if I have to sit in a courtroom with him five feet away from me if it goes to trial. I want to be strong enough for this but— god, I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s like I feel differently about it every five minutes.”

“And that’s okay,” Sonny assures him, now coming to a seat beside Rafael, resting a hand on his boyfriend’s thigh. “Every single thing you’re feeling is valid, sweetheart, I know you know that. Nobody’s expecting you to just be okay with being in the same room as this guy, just remember you’ll never have to be alone with him again and if it ever gets to be too much, we’ll walk out, you and me. No matter what happens, it’ll still be you and me.”

This is all assuming it does go to trial, of course, though Sonny had the sickening feeling it will. Whittaker can’t see past his own privilege, he’ll never admit to the truth if he can help it. They’ll put Rafael through hell in that courtroom and the only reason Sonny will stand for it is because he’s sure Whittaker will pay for this in the end. He has to, there can’t be any other option while Rafael is suffering. 

A buzzing from the intercom interrupts them before he can say anything else, and Sonny sighs before gently pulling Rafael toward him, letting his lips linger over his boyfriend’s healing temple until the buzzing sounds again. 

“Stay right here,” Sonny instructs, squeezing Rafael's knee then popping up from the couch and making his way across the room so he can pick up the intercom phone. He almost thinks he's hallucinating for a second when he hears an unexpected voice on the other side of the line, and he covers the receiver and looks over his shoulder at Rafael with his brow knit in confusion. 

"You ever known Rita Calhoun to make house calls?" he asks. 

It doesn't even occur to him why Rita might be here until Sonny watches Rafael's entire face fall, his eyes lowering in disappointment as he leans back against the couch with a frown. Sonny might have stayed rooted in place all afternoon, the phone pressed against his palm and his chest seizing with anger at the thought that Rita would have the audacity to actually offer her services to the son of a bitch who'd done this to Rafael and then show up to tell them about it. Is that really what this is? Is she really that cold?

"I don't have all day, detective," Rita’s tinny voice sounds. 

Sonny briefly considers hanging up, his fingers twitching over the phone.

“Just let her in,” Rafael says. He sounds so exhausted. Sonny’s heart aches for him. “Whatever she came here to say, let her say it and get it over with.”

Nodding, Sonny holds down the button to buzz Rita in and sets the phone back down without another word. He stands there with a hand on the doorknob, waiting for a knock, all the while watching Rafael remain perfectly still with his eyes closed. Sonny fleetingly worries that he should check to see if Rafael is still breathing, a thought so morbid it sends a chill through him and forms a lump in his throat because it’s just another accidental reminder of how close he’d come to losing the love of his life. 

Rita’s knock startles him out of his dark spiral and at least for that, he can thank her. 

Twisting the knob, Sonny steps back to open the door for her, unable to keep himself from frowning when Rita practically sashays inside without so much as a word of thanks. She's dressed sharply in a grey wool pantsuit with a white silk blouse but not as sharply as Rafael usually is, though the contrast is definitely there today with Rafael in a pair of sweats and worn, faded blue shirt. It's somehow too big and too small for him all at once, and he usually looks so good in it, even with the frayed edges of the collar, but right now, it only accentuates the bruises that have darkened on his cheek. Those bruises hurt to look at, they're yet more reminders of his own failures and Rafael's pain, and the only comfort he can take in any of that right now is that Rita seems to realize the same thing because she stops short at the sight of Rafael.

"You've looked better," she says after a long beat of silence. 

Rafael lets out a sharp laugh at that, then winces as he cradles his ribs and shifts on the couch. It takes every last fiber of Sonny's will not to rush over to help him but he knows Rafael would hate that, resent it, especially in front of Rita. Instead, he takes in a deep, inaudible breath and plasters on a fake, welcoming smile.

"We didn't expect you, Counselor," Sonny tells her. She only raises a brow at him, like he's boring her by telling her something she'd already known, and he feels like a little kid being chastised. All it makes him want to do is direct her back to the door and very kindly ask her to get the hell out of here and leave them alone. "Can I get you something to drink or anything?"

"That won't be necessary," Rita says, "I won't be here long." Her gaze returns to Rafael and Sonny is surprised when her voice softens. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Not at all," Rafael says, gesturing to the love seat beside the couch. 

A subtle glance only Sonny could interpret as urgent is what prompts him to reclaim his spot beside his boyfriend, and he's prepared to keep his hands to himself but Rafael is quick to thread their fingers together. Sonny watches Rita glance at their entwined hands and expects to see judgment because he's always had a feeling she doesn't think he's good enough for Rafael. Fair enough, really, sometimes Sonny doesn't think he is, either; but instead, the corners of her lips twitch upward into a barely detectable smile, one that leaves no trace of mockery, and Sonny feels like he can breathe again.

"I'll get right to the point," Rita says, inching forward a bit on her seat, her posture straight, professional. This clearly isn't meant to be a social call. "Whittaker's people want to offer you a deal. A settlement.”

"He's not taking it," Sonny tells her, a little more aggressively than he'd intended. 

Rafael squeezes his partner's hand in a mild effort to calm him down, though his own heart is pounding from what he suspects is coming next. "I'm moving forward with pressing charges," Rafael says, and he has to be grateful for decades of work in the courtroom because he somehow manages to keep his voice steady. "That they think I’d agree to a settlement is offensive, to say the least."

"A million dollars to keep quiet and brush it under the rug?" Rita asks. Sonny’s eyes widen at that and Rafael’s grip on his hand tightens but neither of them respond. She shrugs a shoulder, though there doesn't seem to be anything dismissive in her expression. "Some people might at least consider it."

"You know me better than that," Rafael says, meeting her eyes evenly, almost challenging her. 

"I do," she says, letting out a sigh. "Yes, I really do. Listen, Barba, they--"

"They hired you," Rafael finishes, nodding. He breaks their eye contact then, instead shifting his gaze to rest on his and Sonny's hands, trying his damnedest not to let the hot tears he feels filling his eyes spill, not in front of her. 

They’d been closer once, he and Rita, they’d been friends before she’d decided to sell her soul and become a defense attorney, to turn her back on victims and defend people generally not worth defending—and for what? A nice paycheck might make life easier but at the end of the day, Rafael would always prefer being able to sleep at night. That’s something that has been taken from him, his sleep, his peace. It’s a betrayal, that Rita would defend Whittaker for what he’d done, Rafael feels the pain of it as distinctly as each kick to his ribs. 

When she leaves, Rafael will allow the tears, but only when she leaves. Sonny's the only one who gets to see him like that and even then, Rafael would prefer it if nobody did. 

"They tried," Rita amends. 

Rafael doesn't comprehend what that means for a moment. Sonny comes to the realization first.

"You told them you wouldn't do it?" Sonny asks, a hint of awe in his tone, and he'd be more amused at how annoyed that seems to make Rita if the situation weren't so serious.

"I know you think I'm a monster but I do have a heart," Rita says. "I'm not always in it for the money. Rafael, you know me better than that, too. You know me better than to think I'd ever represent someone who'd do this to you. I believe you.”

There's a lump forming in Rafael's throat that prevents him from speaking so he only nods, his breaths becoming more shallow as it gets harder and harder not to let those tears fall down his cheeks. It's been a long time since Rita had crossed over to the dark side, he's known her to value the dollar over her conscious for too many years now and frankly, he wants to say that he doesn't think he knows her that well, not anymore. He'd expected her to be here to apologize for taking on a client so close to home, not to tell him she'd never do such a thing. This is almost overwhelming, if only because it's an act of kindness from her he couldn't have foreseen.

"Thank you."

It's all he can say, all he can come up with right now, and Rita seems to accept that well enough.

"There's one more thing," she says, this time locking eyes with Sonny, who unconsciously straightens up under her scrutiny. 

It's like she's talking directly to him now, like she'd wanted Rafael to be on the receiving end of her version of the right thing and now, it's on Sonny to bear the weight of what else she has to tell them. He'll take on the responsibility, though, and he lifts his chin at her a bit just as a way to show it, to show he’s prepared for whatever she’s about to throw at him. 

"I found out who they did manage to get to represent them. They weren’t satisfied with their lawyer on retainer, and they offered me a good amount of money to step in so I’m not all too surprised how quickly they were able to get someone else. They must be worried because they were looking for someone with a good track record when it comes to defending sexual assault cases.”

“Who is it, Rita?” Rafael asks. “Just tell me.”

She hesitates just briefly before answering, “It's Buchanan."

" _Seriously_?" Rita's eyes sharpen at Sonny's outburst, and he quickly glances at Rafael's lowered head before looking back at her. There's that feeling of being chastised again. Sonny wonders if Rita has ever tried to ask Rafael about their relationship before then remembers how unimportant that is right now. "Guess I can't even pretend to be surprised, that guy would rep his own mother's attacker if the price was right." 

"Right," Rita says, standing from her seat and smoothing down her jacket. "I just wanted you to be prepared. We both know he won’t make this easy for you. Rafael?" Rafael looks up at the sound of his name, silent but questioning. If Rita were a different kind of person, she might be tempted to wrap his arms around him and give him a hug. "If you need anything, please call me. I’ll do whatever I can to help."

"I will," Rafael promises. He's impressed with himself that he's found his voice again. "We will."

"Don't get up," Rita says, holding a hand out at Sonny, who's already started to rise from the couch. "I can see myself out. Take care of him, Detective Carisi."

Rafael groans at that, rolling his eyes. "Now you've crossed a line, get out of our apartment."

Rita chuckles, obliging as she heads for the door, but stops short when Rafael calls her name.

"Thank you," he tells her. "I mean it."

"You're welcome," Rita answers sincerely, offering them both a final nod before slipping out the door.

The second she’s gone, Rafael collapses against Sonny, clutching at his partner’s shirt like it might help him find a way to keep steady after the blow they’ve just been dealt. _Buchanan_. God. 

He pushes himself up to his feet then, tugging at Sonny’s hand, but Sonny stands and presses down on his shoulders, grounding him. 

“Raf? What do you need, what can I do?”

“Out.” Rafael nods, taking a step backward, though he’s gripped the hem of Sonny’s shirt in his fist. “Let’s go out, I need to eat, right? Doesn’t matter where. I just need some air.”

Sonny searches Rafael’s eyes and finds only desperation. He isn’t entirely convinced going out right now is such a good idea, but Rafael is limping toward the door and Sonny’s sure as hell not going to let him head out on his own, not with his mind in the state it is. 

“Okay, okay, just let me grab your jacket and meds,” he says, leading Rafael to the hallway, “we’ll find somewhere close. Two minutes, babe, just give me two minutes.”

Rafael nods, struggling to take deep breaths as he leans back against the wall. He pictures the courtroom, himself on the stand, Whittaker sneering at him while Buchanan relentlessly questions him. 

Things only seem to be getting worse. Rafael wonders whether anything will ever feel easy again. 

—

Edra Kim had managed to get a whole five minutes of a quick meditation practice in at her desk before John Buchanan had strolled through her office door without so much as knocking. 

"We're willing to cut a deal,” he announces, almost gleefully. 

“I can only assume you’re talking about your new client,” Edra says. She picks up her Tiffany T-clip, rolling the pen through her fingers, a habit she’d picked up once she’d removed her wedding ring. It helps her think, having something to do with her hands. It’s a shame she thinks of her soon-to-be ex-husband every time she holds this pen. Ted had bought her this one as an anniversary gift, he’d engraved it with a simple “for the love of my life.” She’d found it more difficult to part with the pen than with him, in the end. “Okay, fine, let’s hear it.”

“Three months community service."

Edra waits, her gaze fixed expectantly on Buchanan. It isn't until she realizes Buchanan is now sitting across from her as smug as his client that he won't be adding anything else to the supposed deal. 

"You're serious? You have the gall to walk in here and offer that crap? I'm glad Barba isn't here, I honestly don't think he'd hesitate to spit in your face."

Buchanan smirks, in a way that's vastly more irritating than Barba ever does, casually shrugging a shoulder. "My client is a public figure, you have no evidence that the sexual contact he had with Mr. Barba was anything less than consensual--"

"I'm sorry, let me stop you right there. Your client bashed Rafael’s head against a wall and beat him after Rafael refused to perform oral sex on him--"

"Allegedly."

"--then ejaculated on Rafael before fleeing the scene because he was afraid of getting caught. We have a witness who places Whittaker in the bar with Rafael and that same witness confirms Whittaker is the one who ran."

"Yes, we've both read the same report. By no means am I denying that my client was with Mr. Barba. As you know, Mr. Whittaker admits to that. As you also know, he’s already said there was an unknown third party involved responsible for Mr. Barba’s injuries. Even if there wasn’t, you and I _and_ Barba have seen this before, we’ve seen how these things can go. Maybe things escalated, maybe there was a misunderstanding, who can really say it wasn't all voluntary?"

"A misunderstanding." 

Edra scoffs, pressing her fingertips to her temple and resting her other hand on her hip. She can feel pressure building in the side of her head, a stress headache, not to mention the wave of nausea that accompanies it. Buchanan's logic is outrageous but that's his specialty. It's what he does best in court. Rather than do any real defending, he twists words, finds ways to use them against people. Already, Edra is dreading what Buchanan will do to morph Barba's testimony into something ugly, something disjointed that won't even resemble the initial statement given. After all he's been through, Barba doesn't deserve to be subjected to that, stubborn and willful as the man may be to put himself up to the task. 

"Your client gave Rafael a concussion. He fractured Rafael’s wrist. He broke Rafael’s ribs. He sexually assaulted him.”

“There’s no proof, Edra.”

“You _know_ him, John!” Edra shouts, slamming her own down on the desk. Buchanan doesn’t even flinch. “You know Rafael. You know he wouldn’t lie, not about this. I’m sure you’ve seen the photos and read his account of what happened. How can you do this to him?”

A beat passes. “It’s like you said,” Buchanan tells her calmly, “he had a concussion. I’m sure he’s still very confused about what happened and my client is willing to offer him a generous settlement if he agrees to—”

Edra holds up a hand to stop him. “Spare me. There's no way I'm going to entertain this deal, there’s no way Rafael is going to settle. If we can't get Whittaker for sexual abuse, we'll get him for assault. I promise you that. I hope the paycheck is worth it, John.”

Buchanan's expression shifts into something darker, dangerous, to the point that it makes Edra want to shudder from how uncomfortable it makes her. She tries not to cringe when Buchanan leans over to rest his palms on the edge of her desk, making sure to secure eye contact with her. "You take this to trial, you know Barba will get ripped apart. There is no guarantee a jury will find Whittaker guilty and what then? You think there won't be consequences?"

That makes Edra quirk a brow. She sits up a little taller in her seat, her gaze hardening. "Is that a threat, Counselor?"

"Not at all," Buchanan says. Just like that, the hint of danger in his eyes disappears and the smile is back. "I just want to make it clear that even though Barba may prosecute cases like these for a living, he can't possibly anticipate the toll it will take on him to get up on the stand for something that we could so easily make go away."

"He's aware," Edra says icily. She gestures dismissively, feigning boredom now. "Is there anything else you need or do you have any other offensive pleas you'd like to propose?"

Buchanan holds his hands up in mock surrender, taking a step back from the desk. "I've said my piece. Thank you for your time, Edra. Always a pleasure." With one foot out the door, Buchanan stops, offering one final, faux sympathetic smile. “By the way, sorry to hear about the divorce. No idea what your husband doesn’t see in you.”

—

It's just past one when they finally sit down for lunch at Hudson Jane. Rafael and Sonny sit across from one another in a corner booth, neither of them speaking. Sonny knows Rafael is annoyed, annoyed by how fragilely Sonny has been treating him since they’d left the apartment. It had been a little much, Sonny has to admit, he’d asked no fewer than ten times whether Rafael needed to stop for a break on their way here. It’d earned Sonny a dirty look and the still active silent treatment, which would be tenser if not for the surrounding buzz of conversation and cups clinking and silverware rattling. 

Sonny hadn't said anything when Rafael only ordered a cup of tomato feta soup and a water. He hadn't even said anything when Rafael had refused to even look at him for the block between their apartment and the restaurant. He hadn't said anything because he doesn't want to put his foot in his mouth over something Sonny knows he could never really understand. 

But he can’t just sit here, that’s not how he’s wired. “You know,” he says, pausing to take a sip of his coffee, “I don't think I'd be keeping it together as well as you if it’d happened to me.”

He can see the expressions shift over Rafael’s features and he knows he’s said the wrong thing the second his boyfriend tilts head to glare up at him. 

“If it’d happened to you,” Rafael echoes. “You’re talking about what, almost getting raped? Knowing I’m going to have my ass handed to me on the wrong side of the courtroom? You don’t think you’d _keep it together_ as well as me?”

Sonny leans back against his seat in the booth, eyes widening, one hand lifting in an attempt to diffuse whatever he’d inadvertently sparked. “Rafael, hold on--”

“I’m not keeping it together, Sonny,” Rafael says. The words sound like they’re being torn from his throat, his voice is like gravel, and he clenches his hands into fists as he continues, “It’s consuming me, it’s eating me up inside, and I hate every fucking second of it. I’m not keeping it together. If that’s what you think… I don’t know. I hate to be a disappointment.”

That renders Sonny speechless, he can only watch Rafael from across the table, no semblance of a clue about what to say next coming to mind. It sounds careless now that he turns what’d he’d said over in his mind. Rafael is and always has been so strong; but Sonny, better than anyone, knows so much of that is part of a show. It's an act, one he's perfected since childhood to keep people from seeing the pain that lingers just under the surface of what he wants others to see. Sometimes it becomes easy to take that for granted. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say. He feels so small saying it. Rafael won’t look at him, keeps his eyes fixed squarely on the napkin he’s ripping to shreds. 

_A disappointment_. The only disappointment Sonny finds is within himself, for not taking two seconds just to think before he speaks when he deals with cases like this every single day. Well, that’s not entirely true, he has to admit. No other case has involved his boyfriend as a victim. There couldn’t have been any way to predict how this might go, what might trigger a reaction in Rafael, they can only learn as they go. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sonny is as aware of that as he is the fact that Rafael will forgive him for this, if not by the end of their meal then by the end of the day when they’re settled in bed together and Sonny can hold him close. Protect him. 

Sonny loses himself so deeply to thought, sorting through a hundred other different ways he can apologize or try to get Rafael to at least meet his eyes, that he doesn't even notice the stranger who approaches until the guy is already standing at the head of their table. 

"Mr. Barba?” There's a warm smile on his face, a crisp, white shirt with sleeves rolled up over dark skin paired with a solid royal blue tie, and he says Rafael’s name with such familiarity that Sonny’s normally vigilant guard doesn’t even go up. He looks friendly, maybe someone from the DA’s office Sonny hasn’t met yet. 

One look at Rafael's blank stare is enough to let Sonny know he’s wrong. 

"That's me," Rafael answers. "Have we met?"

"No, no, we haven't, forgive me for interrupting," the man says, gesturing at the space in the booth beside Sonny. "My name is Stuart Gordon. I just have something somewhat urgent I'd like to discuss with you, do you mind?"

Sonny narrows his eyes, though he instinctively inches to his left to allow the guy to sit, and Stuart Gordon is quick to take advantage. 

"If this is about a case," Rafael says, frowning, "I'm currently on leave so it's best you contact my office to find out who you need to talk to in my absence."

"Yes, of course, I did hear about what happened," Gordon says. Somehow, the friendliness in his tone now seems to be dripping with insincerity, and Sonny feels his hackles starting to rise. "I suppose it is about a case. Yours, in particular."

"Okay, wait a minute," Sonny interjects, a fist lightly coming down on the table. "Who the hell are you, what do you mean his case? What is this?"

"You're Detective Carisi." It's not a question, and Sonny doesn't respond with anything but an expectant glare. "I recognize you from photos. As I said, I'm Stuart Gordon. I’m the head of Public Relations for Whittaker Hotel & Suites."

Sonny's stomach drops at that and by the sudden appearance of a queasy look in Rafael’s face, he's not alone in that. 

"Did you follow us here?" Sonny asks. 

"I’m here on behalf of Mr. Whittaker, Senior,” Gordon explains, ignoring the question. “He’s quite sure that there's just been a major misunderstanding between you and his son. Adamant, even. He didn't think you'd respond particularly well to meeting with him directly so he sent me in his place to see if we might be able to... negotiate something."

"Negotiate.” After what Rita had told them, Rafael knows this should have been expected but his disbelief is still evident. " _No_. How's that? Saves us both wasted time."

Gordon's shoulders square, his expression hardening behind square black frames, and he folds his hands neatly on the table. "Mr. Whittaker is a busy man, Mr. Barba. Now, he's willing to forgive and forget the accusations you've made against his son for a nominal fee. One million, to be exact. One million to move on with your life and let Tom carry on with his."

"This is bullshit," Sonny says, his knuckles white now, and it takes all the restraint he has not to drag Gordon up and down the aisles of this restaurant for what he's proposing. "Tom, Jr.’s got nothing to hide, huh? That's why daddy’s offering hush money?”

Rafael's voice grows soft and he reaches across the table to cover Sonny's hand with his own. "Sonny--"

"No, you know what? You go back to your boss and tell him he can go to hell, there's no way we're going to get him to shut us up, not about this.” He points at Rafael, at the bruises, making sure to hold hard eye contact with Gordon. “Look at what Whittaker did to him. You’re defending that. You’re sitting here saying it was okay, do you have any clue—”

" _Dominick_."

That makes Sonny stop talking in an instant and through a haze of red and rage, he finds his boyfriend's eyes. Rafael gives the slightest shake of his head, nearly imperceptible but Sonny sees it. He's almost always so good at reading between Rafael's lines. What’d happened before Gordon had interjected them was an anomaly, something Sonny is going to make damn sure he doesn’t make the mistake of assuming again, but he sees the way Rafael is looking at him now and he just knows: they're back on the same page. 

"I do appreciate your partner's gusto, Mr. Barba," Gordon says, infuriatingly unmoved by Sonny's outburst, "but the choice is yours."

It's a hell of a thing to say to someone who'd had his choice taken from him.

"I think you should leave now," Rafael says evenly. "Tell Whittaker he should clear his schedule because I'll be seeing him in court."

Gordon purses his lips then adjusts the frames that rest on his nose. With a sigh, he slides out of the booth and fixes Rafael with a long, quizzical look. "They won’t make it easy for you,” he warns. “A more prudent man would take the offer.”

“I’m not known for being prudent,” Rafael retorts. 

With a scoff, Gordon nods his agreement. “Indeed. I’m to let you know the offer is good until the end of the day, in case you change your mind. I suspect I don’t need to bother giving you my card.”

“The best thing you can do right now is get the hell out of here,” Sonny tells him, rising from his seat, “and if I catch you anywhere near Rafael again, I can promise you I won’t be as civilized as I’m _really_ having to force myself to be right now.”

That earns him a smirk. It makes Sonny’s skin crawl. “Enjoy the rest of your day, gentlemen.”

Sonny watches until Gordon is out the door and has disappeared into the crowd of people out on the sidewalk before he collapses back into the booth, one hand scrubbing over day-old stubble as he tries to process what the hell had just happened. Is Whittaker really that fucking stupid that he’d send someone to pay Rafael off? The only real explanation Sonny can come up with is that it must have worked at least once before.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. His fingers twitch at his side but then Rafael is speaking and nothing else matters.

"I don't know what to say," Rafael admits. He looks a little shell-shocked, a lot tired, like the bags under his eyes have suddenly darkened a few shades in the past minute and a half. “Rita warned us, I guess, but I didn’t expect it to happen like that.” He pauses, like he’s just realizing something for the first time, then looks up at Sonny with a hint of panic in his eyes. “He really was following us, wasn’t he?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with it.” 

“I thought the death threats were bad but at least I _invited_ Heredio to come after me.”

Sonny purses his lips at that. It’s a sore memory, one he’d rather avoid if he could, even if the thought that there could still be someone out there plotting some kind of sick revenge against Rafael makes him sick to his stomach. He thinks about it often, even if they don’t talk about it often, but they both know Heredio had been a pawn. They both know that could come back to bite them in the ass one day. Sonny just hopes it isn’t only a matter of time.

“I’m not letting Whittaker hurt you again.” That’s likely not the response Rafael had expected and even Sonny is surprised by the ferocity in his own voice but truth be told, he’s still seething and shaking with anger over their encounter with Gordon. Whittaker, _both_ Whittakers, had to have known even if Rafael hadn’t accepted the offer, it would’ve shaken him. That’s what they’re trying to do here, unnerve Rafael to the point of unraveling. “They don’t get to win. Whittaker doesn’t get to do what he did to you and walk away. I can’t even entertain that as a possible outcome, Raf, I need to see him put away.”

“Yeah.” 

Rafael’s voice is soft when he agrees, barely loud enough to hear over the rest of the blissfully ignorant customers around them, and it hits Sonny yet again how carefully planned this had been on Gordon’s part. Do it in public, surrounded by people, it forces them to either remain calm or risk an outburst, thus potentially risking the case. If nothing else, it’d been a smart move, not that Sonny has an ounce of respect for that. 

There's a brief interruption when their server stops by with Rafael's soup and Sonny's meatball sub. Sonny can't help but be pleased when Rafael adds a Cuban sandwich to his order. A couple bites, that’s all Sonny expects Rafael to be able to handle, but that’s fine by him. The bare minimum meal had been an act of defiance but now there's no need for it. The thin wall that'd formed between them earlier is broken now. He hates that the immediate reason for that had been Whittaker’s doing.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Sonny says, knowing the context doesn't need to be there for it to make sense, and watches for a reaction. “I’m trying so hard to do right by you but I keep putting my foot in my mouth.”

Rafael only rolls his eyes, reaching for a spoon to dip into his soup. "You were about ready to stab a butter knife into that asshole’s jugular for me, I think I can forgive you for putting your foot in your mouth.”

“I’m serious, Rafael.” He inches forward in his seat until his chest hits the edge of the table and he reaches out to brush his fingers against Rafael’s. The cast is in the way of being able to take that hand in his like he wants to, every day he looks at it and wishes he could get his hands on Tom fucking Whittaker and break every bone in the bastard’s body; but he takes a breath, finding calm in Rafael’s big, green eyes, eyes that don’t show a trace of resentment anymore. Thank God for that. “I just-- I love you. So much. Okay?”

A smile plays at the corners of Rafael’s mouth and for a second, Sonny thinks he’ll be on the receiving end of some classic Barba teasing but instead, Rafael just nods. “Okay, baby.” The pet name nearly makes Sonny melt over his still untouched sandwich. “I love you, too.” There’s the smile, close to fully formed. “So much.”

\--

It’d been a blessedly quiet day at the 16th until Liv had gotten a call from Sonny relaying an incident at Hudson Jane that she could just barely believe had actually happened. She’d made the promise to deliver the news to Edra, if only because it would mean some well-deserved rest and distance from the situation for Rafael, but now that Edra is pacing back and forth at a dizzying pace in her office, Liv wonders if maybe she’d made a very poor choice.

“I cannot _believe_ the audacity of that man,” Edra says, pausing with her mouth still open and a finger held up toward Liv before she huffs and resumes her pacing. “I was hoping we could avoid taking this to trial, that Whittaker would rather keep his name out of the media as much as possible but apparently, he just loves the attention.”

“He does seem to have many of the traits of a classic narcissist.”

“To say the least. And for Buchanan to come to me today with _his_ outrageous version of a deal--”

“Wait a minute.” Liv leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk. “Buchanan is representing Whittaker?” She lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “I knew he was scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to morals but this really takes the cake.”

“They’re working both sides,” Edra says, “Buchanan was trying me, Whittaker was trying Barba. They do want to keep this quiet but only on their terms.”

“Barba deserves more than their terms.”

“I agree. Of course I agree, I’m not standing here fuming in your office for my health.” Edra sighs, running a hand through silky, black hair. “I’m worried for him. I’m worried about what they’re going to put him through when he’s inevitably called to that stand.”

Liv lowers her eyes. She’d been thinking the same thing. “He’ll need our support.” It’s as simple as that. It’s all they can really offer.

“Right. Speaking of which, I need to get back to the office so I can give Buchanan a piece of my mind. You’ll call me if anything else comes up?”

“Of course. Thanks for stopping by.”

The second Edra slips out, she’s quickly replaced by both Fin and Amanda. Liv half suspects they’d been listening at the door but her mild amusement at the thought fades at the matching looks of concern on her detectives’ faces. 

“Is Barba okay?” Amanda asks. It’s somehow still an odd question to hear come out of her mouth. “That’s what Kim was here for, right?”

Liv nods, gesturing for them both to take a seat. “Apparently, Whittaker, Sr. decided to send one of his guys out to try to talk Barba into accepting hush money this afternoon. Sonny was… less than pleased when he called.” Understatement of the year, frankly.

“ _What_?” Fin glances at Amanda, who looks as stunned as he feels, then turns back to Liv. “They need anything from us, what do you want us to do?”

“There’s not much we can do right now. Barba declined and the guy left. No coercion, just an offer. They were obviously followed but Sonny admitted he didn’t think it would be a reoccurring issue.” She pauses, tilting her head. “Well, hang on. Maybe we could do a little more digging. You mentioned a woman who filed a TRO against Whittaker but had it rescinded.”

Amanda sits up a little straighter. “Yeah. Melissa King, the one who works for the company now. You think we might be able to get something out of her?”

“I think it’s certainly worth a shot.”

“We’re on it, Liv,” Fin says, already rising from his chair. “Don’t worry. We won’t let Barba down.”

Liv smiles tightly, letting her mouth turn downward into a frown once Fin and Amanda are gone, Fin’s words echoing in her mind. 

_We won’t let Barba down._

The problem is, she already feels like they’re doing just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind comments on the last chapter. They're what keep me going and inspire me to keep writing. I already have a sequel planned for this story, though we've still got a ways to go before getting there, just thought I'd make mention of it so you all know I have no plans to abandon this fic at all--sometimes I just take a little longer to find the will to get the words in my head down, hence why this one is actually a little shorter than usual ^__^ BUT I love you all, please keep letting me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you <3


	8. lights will guide you home and ignite your bones and i will try to fix you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did he touch you?” 
> 
> Rafael’s hand slips out of Sonny’s and lifts to his throat. “Here. He tried— I thought…” He trails off when his voice cracks, looking more helpless than he had the night he’d walked into the precinct with a concussion and a freshly broken wrist. “I didn’t know what to do.”
> 
> Sonny’s heart aches at the desperation in Rafael’s voice. He tilts Rafael’s chin up so their eyes meet then cups his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby, I should have been there.”
> 
> Rafael frowns, his shoulders stiffening even under Sonny’s touch. “I should have done more. I shouldn’t have given him the chance to walk through the door.”

“I’m Natasha Herrington, here in front of the Manhattan courthouse for Channel Nine. Breaking news on the case against famed hotel heir Tom Whittaker, he’s just been released on bail after a judge mandated a release for one hundred thousand dollars at his arraignment this morning. Whittaker pled not guilty to counts of assault and sexual abuse against Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba.”

Sonny has to do a double take on his way into the kitchen when his brain catches up to what he’s hearing from their television. In two quick strides, he crosses the room to snatch the remote up from where it lies next to Rafael on the couch so he can put the channel on mute. 

“You shouldn’t be watching this crap,” Sonny says, knowing exactly how weak that sounds even before Rafael slowly shifts his eyes up from the screen to offer an unimpressed grimace. “I just mean, it’s only been a week and a half since it happened. The nightmares are still bothering you. After what happened with Gordon, I know we’ve both been a little on edge.”

That’s an understatement. Sonny has been so frustrated with the way Gordon had approached them, treated Rafael like someone to be bought, that he’s been texting Liv and Amanda constantly with requests for any updates on whether there’d be any consequences. There’s nothing they can really do, of course, Gordon hadn’t harassed them, at least not by definition of the law, and they haven’t heard from anyone in Whittaker’s camp since; but Sonny still can’t shake his paranoia, there’s been something in his gut making him feel so certain that they should stay on their toes, but nothing else has happened. Maybe that’s what makes Sonny nervous, things have been too quiet lately, like the calm before a storm. 

But Rafael is still only glaring at him so Sonny has no real choice but to hand the remote back over to his boyfriend’s now extended hand. He drops down beside Rafael with a defeated sigh, draping one arm over Rafael’s shoulders as the sound from the television returns. 

“We do now have here with us Tom Whittaker himself.”

Sonny freezes. He doesn’t dare look at Rafael. 

“Tom, is there anything you’d like to say about the accusations being made against you?”

Whittaker lets out an easy laugh, putting on a charming smile as he rests a hand down lightly on the reporter’s shoulder. “Well, sure, Natasha, I’ve got plenty to say. But for now, I’ll just say this: I hold no ill will against Mr. Barba. He’s hurt, he’s confused, but I can’t let my pity for him get in the way of making sure people know what really happened. Believe me, I wouldn’t be dragging this all the way to trial if Rafael Barba was telling the truth.”

The TV snaps off, which comes as no surprise to Sonny. Only then does he hesitantly glance over at Rafael, not entirely certain of what he’ll find. 

“Don’t.”

Rafael says it before Sonny has a chance to say anything at all. But his bottom lip is already quivering and his hand trembles over the remote and he offers no resistance when Sonny tugs him close. 

“Don’t,” Rafael says again. He lets out a shaky breath as Sonny rests his chin gently on his head. This is the first time he’s seen Whittaker in motion since the night of the attack. He hasn’t been able to avoid seeing pictures in the paper or online publications, can’t escape Whittaker’s face in his dreams, but to see him out and about and _free_ makes him feel like his stomach is tied in knots. 

“He can’t get to you,” Sonny assures softly, soothingly. He presses a kiss to Rafael’s hair, then another. “I won’t let him.”

Rafael shuts his eyes tight against his tears, inching ever closer into Sonny’s warm embrace. “I know. It’s just if this is what it’s like seeing him on TV, how the hell am I supposed to look him in the eye in a courtroom?”

“You don’t,” Sonny says, as if it’s the most simple solution in the world. Maybe it is. “Every time you feel tempted to look over at him, you look at me instead. I’m going to be in that gallery until it’s over, doesn’t matter how long it takes, so you look at me instead.”

Rafael tries it now. He looks up at Sonny, at those soft eyes watching him, at that worried smile that twitches at the corners. This man is his anchor, the only person who’s ever truly been able to put Rafael at ease, and he does it again now, simply by _being here_. It’s a band-aid of sorts, they both know it, but for the moment, they’ll let it work.

They sit together in comfortable silence, Sonny’s fingers aimlessly tracing shapes on the nape of Rafael’s neck while Rafael allows himself the luxury of letting his boyfriend take care of him. It’s hard sometimes, to admit he needs help, even though Sonny had long ago managed to find an open door through the walls he’d spent so long building inside himself. Old habits die hard, he supposes, Rafael will always prefer to find solutions to his own problems rather than burden anyone else with his troubles. He recognizes the irony here, in this particular situation. In spite of that, there’s still that voice in the back of his head that tells him if he asks for too much, Sonny won’t be willing to give it.

“Aren’t you supposed to meet Bella?” he asks, clearing his throat as he shrinks away from Sonny as casually as he can. He avoids Sonny’s quizzical stare, focusing instead on how much baggier his sweatpants seem to be. That shouldn’t be a surprise, really, he’s lost nearly six pounds since the assault. 

“Yeah, soon. I’m not leaving until I know you’ll be okay, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will be?”

“I’m fine,” Rafael corrects. He tilts his head to look down at Sonny’s watch. It’s nearly noon. He has no idea how time passes so quickly. “Better because of you. Okay? You can’t keep letting me get in the way of living the rest of your life.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“I think you knew that’s what you were signing up for when we started dating.”

Sonny lifts a brow with a smirk, not bothering to disagree with that assessment. “You sure you don’t want to come with me, see Izzy?”

Rafael shakes his head, glancing down at his cast. While he’s come to love Izzy dearly and always feels so unexpectedly warm when she calls him “Uncle Raffle,” she also has an enormous amount of energy that he’s certain he can’t handle right now. “Not this time. Don’t forget to take that little Trolls dress we got for her. And the Stitch backpack. Oh, and the Disney storybook collection.” There’s a whole mess of gifts for Izzy buried in the corner of their closet, a constant supply they pull from every time it’s her birthday or Christmas or when they know they’re going to see her. 

Never in his lifetime had Rafael ever once considered he’d become the spoiling uncle.

“I think I’ll just take the backpack this time,” Sonny says with a laugh, “her birthday’s not too far away anyway, we should keep the reserve stocked.”

“Send me pictures? I wouldn’t be mad about a video.”

“All of the above,” Sonny promises. “I probably should get going. You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own for a bit?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Rafael says, swatting his open palm over Sonny’s ass as his boyfriend stands from the couch. “I’m ready to enjoy a quiet afternoon.”

\--

Barely five minutes pass after Sonny’s left the apartment when a knock sounds at the door. Rafael groans, clutching at his stomach as he inches his way off the couch, careful to rise and step toward the door. He isn’t expecting anyone, that’s for damn sure, and nobody had buzzed up to the intercom. With a soft chuckle, Rafael realizes what the most probable option is for who’s on the other side of the door.

“Did you forget your keys?” he teases as he twists the knob, opening the door to reveal--

_No._

Rafael’s smile falls and he’s certain he can feel his heart beating in his throat. He can’t move, he’s frozen again just like he’d been the night of his attack, but this isn’t an alley outside of Whiskey Tavern, this is his fucking home so there’s no reason at all why Tom Whittaker should be standing right in front of him now.

This isn’t happening, Rafael thinks, it’s just another horrible nightmare and as long as he can accept that, he can wake up from it. He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing down the lump that’s formed in his throat, then blinks his eyes back open.

It doesn’t work. Whittaker is still there. He’s still there, well-dressed and clean-shaven and looking just as he had nearly an hour ago when Rafael had seen him on TV, like there’s absolutely nothing abnormal about this at all.

“Hi, Rafael.” Under any other circumstances, Whittaker might have sounded smooth, charming, he has the kind of voice most people would love to have murmuring sweet nothings in their ears. To Rafael, it’s grating, and so is that familiar scent of cologne. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and he can do nothing about it but stare.

Whittaker seems to take that as an invitation and he strolls inside as if this is his home, as if he belongs here, and Rafael wants to scream but he still can’t find the strength to do anything but follow Whittaker with his eyes. He has no control, there is no upper hand for him here, in his own apartment, and he despises himself for wishing he'd begged Sonny to stay this morning because he can't do this alone. 

But he _has_ to do this alone, there is no alternative, even though his skin is crawling because Whittaker has curled lean, long fingers over a half-covered bicep. 

"You’re looking good,” Whittaker tells him, his voice growing low and gravelly. “You lose some weight?” He rubs his thumb over bare skin, and Rafael practically leaps out of reach, fighting the shiver that threatens to betray whatever bravado he’s trying to cobble together.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rafael says. He can barely get the words to leave his mouth, they come out hoarse through trembling lips and a tightening throat, and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that only grows deeper with every second Whittaker’s predatory gaze remains steadfastly locked on him. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to clear things up,” Whittaker says, raising his hands in the air in mock surrender. “I want to get on the same page about what happened.”

“The same page,” Rafael echoes with disbelief. “You almost raped me. And when I fought back, you couldn’t handle it so you did this to me.” He gestures wildly at himself, lifting his broken wrist in the air, adrenaline coursing through him now and giving him newfound strength. “So unless you’re here to tell me you’re going to plead guilty to assault, we’re not going to be on the same page.”

The smirk that’s been playing at the corners of Whittaker’s mouth since he’d sauntered into the apartment starts to fade and his expression darkens. It reminds Rafael of that switch he’d seen the night everything had happened, that turn from sexual desperation to danger, and he takes a cautious step back toward the wall when Whittaker steps forward. 

“You hit your head too hard,” Whittaker tells him. His tongue flicks over his lips as he looks Rafael over, stepping into Rafael’s space and lifting a hand to wrap loosely over Rafael’s throat. “You wanted me, Rafael, don’t you remember? You told me you wanted me. You wanted me to suck you off but you told me to touch myself for you first. You wanted to watch. Do you know how hot that made me? You know how badly I want to finish what we started?”

Rafael’s gaze shifts to the ceiling as he blinks away the tears forming in his eyes. Whittaker’s grip isn’t anything close to tight but that hand keeps him braced against the wall, keeps him trapped there, he can’t fucking _move_. There’s a cold terror washing over him now and he finds himself sending a quick prayer up to anyone who might be listening. 

_Please. Please, don’t do this to me again._

“I’m not the one who did this to you, how could I ever do something like that to a face so beautiful?”

Rafael knows it’s not the truth, _knows_ it, but he’ll be damned if Whittaker doesn’t speak each word with conviction. The man is perfectly capable of charming a jury, he’s capable of lying through his teeth without betraying himself, and that’s why he’d come here, Rafael realizes. He’d come to prove it. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts, Rafael doesn’t even realize Whittaker has lowered his hand from his throat until he feels fingertips trailing down his belly, downward to the band of his sweatpants. With a horrified gasp, he finds the will to take action, to bat the hand away and reach out to shove Whittaker a few steps back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me again,” Rafael practically growls, scrubbing his good hand over his shirt as if he can wipe away the grime Whittaker’s left behind. 

Whittaker chuckles, straightening his posture and then his blazer with an amused grin that reaches the corners of his eyes. “They’ll believe me, Rafael. Whatever jury you and your cute little squad of protectors put me in front of, they’ll believe me. I’m trying to give you an out here. Think about it. You really want me or anyone else to believe you didn't want me to fuck you when you won’t even ask me to leave?"

It’s like being kicked in the gut all over again. He hadn’t wanted that, he hadn’t wanted Whittaker to follow him into that alley, to put hands over his groin, to force him on his knees. Hearing Whittaker say it, though, that he would have forced his way inside of Rafael given the chance, is what makes the tears that have been welling in his eyes start to fall. 

He hates himself for it. He hates the satisfaction in Whittaker’s eyes, but the tears don’t stop and it’s all Rafael can do to speak through them. “Get out. Get the hell out right now.”

“Since you asked,” Whittaker says, shrugging as he steps backward toward the door. “I’ll see you soon. Just make sure you think long and hard about whether you want the jury to know how much of a slut you are. I plan on being very clear about that.” He pauses before he turns back to take in the sight of Rafael, sighing with insincere admiration. “God, you are pretty when you cry.”

He leaves Rafael standing in the middle of the hall with his heart still pounding and tears still falling. There are a number of things he should be doing right now, he knows that, the first of which should be calling Sonny. His chest hurts at the impending shame of having to admit how weak he’d been, having to explain why he’d just let Whittaker walk in without a fight. Why doesn’t he ever fight? He’d let his father win over and over again and now the same is true for Whittaker. How could Sonny ever be proud to be with someone like Rafael, who can’t even defend himself when it’s most necessary?

Pushing those thoughts away, burying them for the time being, Rafael allows himself one ragged sob that seems to reverberate against the walls as he sinks to his knees. He’s dizzy with a fresh wave of pain, his nerves still overwhelming him because he can’t be sure of what’s stopping Whittaker from deciding to come right back inside and do to him what he’d intended to do in that alley.

His stomach churns. There’s a small puddle gathering below him from the tears dripping down his cheeks, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop crying, can’t stop shaking, and he wishes he could be stronger. This had been an intimidation game and that’s it. Stuart Gordon hadn’t been able to get through to him, so Whittaker had decided to try his hand at it himself. They’re trying to wear him down, to drain whatever little fight he has out of him.

As Rafael retches the contents of his breakfast over wood paneling, he considers the very real possibility that Whittaker will succeed.

He doesn’t know how long he stays doubled over on the floor. Everything hurts, moving one part of his body sends a new jolt of pain through another, and it takes a profound effort to drag himself back into the living room where his phone sits on the coffee table. It’s almost eerie how quiet it is when everything inside of him is chaos.

When Rafael finally manages to dial Sonny’s number, and it takes more than a few attempts to tap the right button on the screen, it rings. 

It rings and rings and rings until it goes to voicemail, and Rafael nearly sobs again when he hears Sonny’s voice. He hangs up without leaving a message, squeezing his eyes shut as his brain scrambles to think of who he could try next. Sonny hasn’t missed a call from him since this whole thing had happened but he’s out with family, he’s having a nice afternoon without any fucking clue about what had happened in his absence, he can’t drop everything anymore to come to Rafael’s aid and Rafael can’t ask him to do that, either. 

Get a grip, he tells himself. _Deal_ with this.

He runs through his options, immediately checking Liv off the list. It isn’t fair to her when she has so much on her plate between work and Noah, he can’t expect her to take care of him just because Sonny can’t. There’s Rollins, but Rafael doesn’t think he could stand the awkward, unnatural kindness she’d show him for the sake of her closeness with Sonny. They both try too hard sometimes, struggling to find neutral or common ground because Sonny is so important to both of them, but they both know the truth. They make a great team when it comes to pinning down a perp, but they’ll never be close. They’ll never be friends, and that’s okay with both of them, no matter how much Sonny might wish otherwise. 

That leaves Fin. He can count on Fin, at least, to remain level-headed, to not treat him like glass, to be realistic about the situation. That’s good enough for Rafael so he dials, feeling a wave of relief when Fin answers the phone. 

“Barba? Everything okay?”

“Not really,” Rafael says with a shaky sigh. “Tom Whittaker just showed up at my apartment.”

There’s a brief silence before Fin speaks again, his tone lacking any hint of his feelings on the matter. That’s exactly what Rafael had expected. “He left? Did he hurt you?”

Rafael isn’t entirely sure how to answer the second question, but he knows what Fin is getting at so he says, “I’m not injured. Not any more than I already was, I mean. He’s gone.”

“I’m coming over,” Fin says. Rafael can hear the shuffling of feet and jingle of keys. “Stay put, keep your door locked. I’ll be right there.”

—

The first thing Fin asks once Barba’s let him into the apartment is “did you call Carisi?” 

“He didn’t answer his phone,” Barba says, “but he’s out with his sister and his niece. He hasn’t called me back, he-- he probably can’t call me back right now.”

The guy sounds dejected about it, and Fin can’t help but feel a little bit bad for him. If Carisi hadn’t answered the phone, there’s no question he doesn’t know he’d missed a call, especially if he hasn’t given Barba a ring back yet, but Barba looks exhausted and like he needs the kind of comfort Fin just can’t give him. “I’m sure he’ll call soon,” he says, though he feels awkward saying it. 

Barba waves a dismissive wrist then rubs at his red, puffy eyes, refusing to make eye contact for more than a few seconds, and Fin isn’t sure if it’s because he’s embarrassed or uncomfortable. Maybe a little bit of both. He and Barba have a working relationship, they don’t get personal and it hadn’t affected Fin one way or another to know Carisi had fallen for the ADA, but that neutrality doesn’t mean Fin doesn’t want to do his very damn best to make sure they put Whittaker away for what he’s done. The fact the guy had shown up Barba’s apartment today, too, makes his blood boil a little. It speaks to Whittaker’s nerve, the fact that he clearly thinks he won’t have to face any consequences for this, and seeing how defeated Barba looks right now only fuels Fin’s desire to make sure Whittaker pays. 

“You wanna tell me what happened here or at the precinct?” Fin asks. It should be done at the precinct, that’s procedure, and they’ll have to go there anyway to file a report, plus Fin’s sure Liv and Kim are both going to want to talk to Barba, but he’s willing to bend a little here. “Whatever you want to do is okay with me.”

Rafael is silent for a moment, weighing the decision. It hurts, knowing that the safety and comfort of his own home have been compromised by Whittaker being in it. He can still feel Whittaker’s touch, he has new, unwanted memories that will surely bleed into his nightmares, and he relishes the pain of a migraine starting at the back of his head because it’s easier to focus on that for even just a split second rather than anything else. 

“The precinct,” Rafael finally decides. “I don’t want to be here right now.”

“Okay,” Fin says, nodding toward the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Rafael appreciates that Fin doesn’t hover over him as he slowly pushes himself upright. It’s not that the general mother henning has been unexpected but even with his injuries healing, he can never seem to escape overly concerned expressions or offers of help every time he has to do something like _move_. Fin would be there, he’d be ready to help if Rafael needed it, but there’s a silent understanding between them that it should be a last resort. Sometimes that’s really what Rafael would prefer from everyone else, too. 

“Thank you,” he says once he’s standing, holding Fin’s gaze steady for the first time since Fin had arrived. He doesn’t have to say what for, Fin will know. They aren’t close, but Rafael thinks they’ve shared a mutual respect for some time now and it counts for more than anyone else observing might think. 

“Anything you need, Counselor,” Fin says. 

It’s enough. 

—

It isn’t until they’ve reached the precinct that Rafael realizes he’s missed his scheduled dose of medication and had left his pills behind. His ribs ache in protest when he climbs out of the squad car and with every step he takes toward the bullpen, but he dismisses Fin’s concern when he’s caught limping. 

“You said he didn’t hurt you, right, Counselor?” Fin asks, eyeing Rafael and the hand pressed against his side skeptically. 

“He touched me,” Rafael admits through gritted teeth as he lowers himself into a chair beside Fin’s desk, “but he didn’t hurt me. Not physically. I forgot my pain meds, that’s all, I’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Fin still looks unsure but caters to Rafael’s lead, pulling a form from one of his drawers and readying himself with a pen. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what happened?”

—

Lunch had gone on longer than Sonny had expected but he doesn’t think Rafael will hold it against him. Besides, he’s got what has to be close to a hundred new photos of Izzy now, plus a video of her waving at the camera and telling Uncle Raffle she loves him so ultimately, Sonny feels this has a been a very successful outing. 

On a guiltier note, it’s been nice to let himself leave the weight on his shoulders behind for a little while. Bella had asked after Rafael, of course, but the conversation had shifted to happier things like Tommy’s promotion at work and Bella’s plans for Izzy’s upcoming birthday. He hasn’t been able to talk about things like that for what feels like an eternity. It’s not Rafael’s fault, obviously not, but being at home hasn’t exactly involved a lot of laughter or smiling lately. He’s been off work for almost two weeks now and if he’s honest, he’s eager to get back to working on cases where he can actually be useful. 

Some days, he gets the sense Rafael would prefer he wasn’t there at all. 

After their second cup of post-meal coffee, Sonny reaches into his back pocket to check on his phone. Never mind the fact that sometimes he feels like he’s crowding Rafael’s space, it’s been nearly two hours since he’d set his phone to Do Not Disturb and the need to at least text Rafael is growing by the second. He curses under his breath when he sees he’s missed a call, Rafael’s, over an hour ago. 

“Something wrong?” Bella asks, trying to peer at his screen.

“No, no, just missed a call from Raf,” Sonny says. “He didn’t text or leave a message, though, probably just wanted me to grab something for him.”

His screen lights up then, Fin’s name displayed as the caller, and Sonny frowns down at his phone with a sudden sense of dread. He glances up at Bella with an apologetic smile then answers. 

“Fin, what’s up? Sorry, what, I don’t think I heard you right. You’re saying something came up with Whittaker?” 

Bella watches the changes in her brother’s expression carefully, frowning when his brow slowly starts to knit and his eyes widen. She can’t tell whether he’s horrified or furious, maybe some combination of both. She inches forward in her chair, her fingers twitching around her coffee cup, desperate to know what’s being said on the other end of that phone and yet not wanting Sonny to have to explain it to her at all because Bella has no doubt this is about Rafael. 

“ _Shit_. Shit, shit, shit, is Rafael with you now? What about-- No, I didn’t-- I mean, I’ve been out with my sister and niece, I saw the missed call but only just now, I didn’t know he called, is he--”

“Shit!” 

Bella widens her eyes at her laughing daughter, gasping when Izzy tries the word out a second time then rapidly shaking her head. “No, Izzy, no. We don’t say that word.”

“No, you’re right,” Sonny says. Bella’s head is starting to spin with her focus pulling in two different directions, what’s going on with Rafael is clearly urgent but at the same time, she’s the one who’s going to have to deal with the cursing child. “You’re right. Of course I’ll be there, we’re not too far from the precinct, it shouldn’t take me longer than twenty. Fin, tell him I’m on my way, will you? Thanks.”

As soon as Sonny’s hung up, Bella pounces. “What’s going on? What happened to Rafael?”

Lifting a hand to his forehead, wiping at perspiration Bella hadn’t even noticed pooling, Sonny heaves a sigh. “Whittaker.” He shakes his head, holding a finger up then jabbing it a few times at his phone and holding it back up to his ear. “Rafael, baby, it’s me. Fin just told me what happened, I want you to know I’m coming to the precinct right now, okay? I’ll be there soon, I’m so sorry I missed your call, I didn’t know. I didn’t know. But I’m on my way, I love you, I’ll see you soon.”

“Uncle Raffle?” Izzy’s eyes brighten, and Bella sighs with relief that she seems to be sufficiently distracted now from spouting any more foul language in a very public place. “Where Uncle Raffle?”

Sonny sets his phone down, offering Izzy a quick smile as he sets himself to the task of pulling bills from his wallet, waving at their server from across the room and gesturing for the check. “He’s at work, sweetheart, I have to go see him now.”

Bella can’t take it.

“ _Sonny_! Will you just tell me what happened?”

“Whittaker showed up at the apartment.”

It takes a moment to process that, especially considering how calm Sonny suddenly looks—no, maybe not calm, more like determined—and Bella stares at him slack-jawed and speechless. 

“Fin picked him up from home, they’re at the precinct now with Liv and Edra. I’m sorry, Bells, but I really have to go.”

“Well, yeah, obviously. Don’t worry about the check, just pick up the next one.”

“Are you sure?” Sonny asks, but he’s already rising from his seat. He leans down to press a kiss to Izzy’s hair, then circles around the table to do the same to Bella’s. “Here, at least take a twenty. I’ll call you later on to fill you in, I promise.”

“Go, get out of here!” Bella exclaims, giving her brother a gentle shove. Sonny’s already halfway across the room by the time she thinks to add, “Tell him we love him, too.”

\--

When Sonny bursts through the doors of the 16th, he had absolutely no shame about barreling past anyone in his way. He doesn’t bother to stop to apologize when he accidentally shoulder checks another officer, there’s no priority in that, all he can think about is getting to Rafael. 

The first place he looks when he reaches the bullpen and nobody’s there is Liv’s office. His blood pressure has been steadily rising since leaving Bella and Izzy behind at the cafe, he can feel himself close to reaching a breaking point, and he doesn’t knock before he opens Liv’s door. 

Liv and Edra look up at him with briefly startled then matching grim expressions but the room goes silent for a moment as they all regard each other. They’d been talking about Rafael just now, Sonny knows, it’s clear enough by the way they’re looking at him. It’s like a punch to the gut because the last time he’d stood in this office, it’d been to listen to Rafael tell him about Whittaker’s assault on him. First assault? Sonny doesn’t know, he has no fucking idea what exactly had happened, it makes him sick to his stomach. 

_If Edra had secured the remand_ \--

Stop, he tells himself. Stop, it does nothing of worth to start throwing needless blame around at the very people trying to help. Edra had done what she could but the Whittakers are made of money and a vast majority of the time, money talks. There’s only one person at fault for this whole mess and that’s Tom fucking Whittaker. 

Even saying the name in his head sends a fresh wave of fury through him, he can feel it flowing from within him, all the way down to his fingertips that curl into his fists now. His anger shows in red splotches on his cheeks, he can feel the heat rising and his neck flushing, and it takes every last bit of his self-control not to snap at both the women staring at him like he might explode at any given second. Actually, that might not be too far from the truth.

“Where is he?”

“Carisi,” Liv says, extending a hand out toward him, “take it easy, you—”

“ _Where the hell is he_?”

Liv’s expression grows stern at his outburst and Edra’s brows lift nearly up through her hairline before she averts her eyes but Sonny doesn’t have the time to feel admonished. “The break room. You need to take a breath, he’s still really upset, he’s going to need you to have your head on straight.”

Sonny ignores the warning, storming out of Liv’s office and storming back through the bullpen to get to the break room. His head is spinning, there are so many different thoughts running through his mind that he doesn’t even know how to begin to sort through them and anyway, there’s no hope of that until he gets to Rafael and makes sure his boyfriend is okay. 

_Of course he’s not okay_ , a voice in the back of his mind whispers, _he’s not going to be okay for a long time and there’s nothing you can do about it_.

He nearly crashes into Fin before he can reach the doorway to the break room, practically tripping over his feet before holding his arms out in front of him to correct himself. 

“Carisi,” Fin says, gripping Sonny’s shoulder, “good, you’re here. Barba’s been waiting for you.”

So clearly he can’t afford to waste another second. It seems obvious enough to Sonny but Fin sighs, looking about as sympathetic as Sonny has ever seen him. 

“Figure I should let you know in case he doesn’t, he forgot his pain meds at home. I can get them if you’re planning to keep him here. He threw up a couple times, too, said he did once after Whittaker left your place, was already cleaned up by the time I got there. He did it again here after we finished talking.”

Sonny swallows hard, slipping out from under Fin’s hold. “Thanks. I’m going to take him home when he’s ready, you don’t have to go back.”

“He hasn’t said much since we made the report but—”

“Can this wait?” Sonny snaps, grimacing when Fin purses his lips. “I’m sorry, I just need to see him.”

“I get it.” Fin steps aside, gesturing for the break room. “We’ll talk later.”

Sonny only nods, rushing through the door and scanning the room until he sees Rafael sitting alone at a table in the corner. He looks dazed, a little out of it, Sonny isn’t sure whether that’s from being in pain or Whittaker showing up at their home. Their goddamn home. It’s supposed to be a safe place, a comfortable place. It’s yet another foundation in their lives Whittaker has shaken. 

“Rafael.” 

At the sound of Sonny’s voice, Rafael lifts his head. He can only muster a low whimper but it’s enough to prompt Sonny to cross the room so he can sink into a chair beside Rafael, one hand immediately finding his boyfriend’s good one and the other resting gently at the back of Rafael’s neck. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says. He presses a kiss to Rafael’s temple, smooths down Rafael’s hair, anything to keep his hands busy so he can feel like he’s making a difference. Rafael’s hair is soft, fluffy and unstyled, it still smells faintly like shampoo. When he buries his nose in it, it’s selfish because it’s comforting, in some small way. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

It feels like his fault.

“Will you tell me what he said to you?”

Rafael’s breaths come faster at the question, shallower, and Sonny lays a hand on his boyfriend’s back to hold him steady, to remind him he’s not alone in this. “He told me there’s no way a jury will believe me. That he’ll be able to convince the jury he’s telling the truth. He said he’d make them believe I— I wanted him to— that I wanted to have sex with him.” Rafael squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth twitching, and Sonny battles his rising guilt and fury. “He said he wanted to finish what he started.”

Sonny cringes. “Did he touch you?” 

Rafael’s hand slips out of Sonny’s and lifts to his throat. “Here. He tried— I thought…” He trails off when his voice cracks, looking more helpless than he had the night he’d walked into the precinct with a concussion and a freshly broken wrist. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Sonny’s heart aches at the desperation in Rafael’s voice. He tilts Rafael’s chin up so their eyes meet then cups his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby, I should have been there.”

Rafael frowns, his shoulders stiffening even under Sonny’s touch. “I should have done more. I shouldn’t have given him the chance to walk through the door.”

“Rafael—”

“I should be the one apologizing. I keep letting these things happen to me, I literally opened the door for this to happen today, and I keep putting the weight of the consequences on you.”

It's always been different with Sonny. With Sonny, Rafael feels like he can be more himself than with anyone else. The expectations are different when it comes to his boss or Liv or even his mother, there’s a distinct need to prove himself to be the man they need him to be. With Sonny, he’s grown to be willing to show his vulnerability, to share his fears and let someone take care of him in a way nobody else ever has. Rafael hadn’t even known it was possible to love another person this much until Sonny has walked into his life and filled an enormous void. 

Even so, he’s never been sure of what he's afraid of more: knowing Sonny loves him that much in return or waiting for the inevitable drop of the other shoe. All good things come to an end, if forty-seven years have taught him anything, it’s that. Every so often, he struggles with the notion that he could spend the rest of his life with this one person, not because it’s difficult to imagine loving Sonny for another fifty years but because he can’t imagine Sonny loving _him_ for that long. 

“Stop,” Sonny says. “Please don’t do that. You know that’s not how I feel.”

Rafael sighs, rubbing at his temple, trying to ease his headache. His ribs are aching and so is his wrist, so is his heart, and he’d wanted nothing more than for Sonny to hold him but now, he turns to self-sabotaging and wonders whether it might just be better to get away from it all for a little while. “Maybe I should see about staying with my mom tonight.”

Sonny flinches, physically recoils at that suggestion. “What, by yourself? You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m tired. Everything hurts. I keep thinking things I don’t want to be thinking, maybe I just need to clear my head. 

“Fin said you left your meds behind.”

“I had other things on my mind,” Rafael snaps, “like my attempted rapist walking into our goddamn home to threaten me. You’ll excuse me if my first thought when Fin was the one to show up wasn’t about what I should bring with me to the precinct.”

Sonny takes a breath. Rafael can tell by the flush of his cheeks that he’s getting frustrated. “I would’ve been there in a second if I knew what happened. I missed the call, Rafael, and I’m sorry about that but I’m doing my best. Now come on, you know I love you, and I’m not going anywhere, please try to remember that’s the truth.”

“Yeah, you love me so much you can’t even stand to take a call from me the second you’re able to get away.”

Rafael doesn’t expect Sonny’s fist to slam down on the table but when it does, he nearly falls out of his chair. When he looks up at his partner, he finds a stunned expression and Sonny’s mouth agape, like he can’t believe what he’s just done. Rafael tries to find words, to find anything at all to say, but he can’t. All he can do is grip the edge of the table, his knuckles white, and watch Sonny with an uncertainty he’s only ever felt once before. 

Sonny has a little bit of a temper, nothing extreme and usually reserved for particularly seedy perps or out of sheer frustration for the people he loves most. For the most part, it amounts to occasional yelling in rare high stakes situations but at its worst, it can get physical. He’d been angry enough once years and years ago over one of Bella’s worst boyfriends to put a fist through drywall. The only reason he hasn’t done that again is because he still has a scar on the ring finger knuckle of his right hand to remind him how stupid it’d been to go that far in the first place. 

Sonny would never raise a fist at Rafael, but he’d once stepped into Rafael’s space and shoved a finger in his face and _yelled_ and it’d been enough to earn a flash of fear in those beautiful green eyes that usually look at him with so much love and affection. That’s not a look Sonny has ever wanted to see on Rafael’s face again, despite the fact he’d been forgiven for it. He hates himself for being the cause of that look again now, here, when Sonny’s supposed to be making sure Rafael feels safe and loved, especially after the day he’s had. 

The thought of Rafael having doubts about their relationship, about Sonny’s love, scares him, terrifies him, because he can’t lose this. He can’t lose this man, this one person who’s taught him what it means to truly love someone with all his heart and soul. Sonny’s about ready to say just that when Rafael beats him to breaking the tense silence first. 

“I will never be the guy who makes it easy for you,” Rafael says, his eyes downcast. “You know how hard it is for me to put my trust in people. You let someone in, you let them bury a piece of themselves inside you, then eventually, you start to realize the only way left for them to go is back out the way they came. It’s never been like that with you and maybe that scares me sometimes. Maybe you deserve better than that.”

“Hey, no. Don't turn this into you telling me what I deserve. You can sing that song as many times as you want but I’m not letting you convince yourself you deserve anything less than the world. Can you look at me?”

Rafael hesitates but lifts his head, and Sonny can’t help but lean in to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. They shouldn’t be doing this here, Sonny knows that, and truth be told, he’s surprised nobody’s come to check in on them; but maybe they’d needed this, a reaffirmation of what they mean to each other after all that’s happened. This thing with Whittaker isn’t over, not by a long shot, and they’ll need all the strength they can get to face it. They’ll need each other. 

“I told you I wouldn’t let him get to you. I’m sorry I failed. But you listen to me, Rafael, and I will say this as many times as it takes until you get it through your stubborn head, you're not alone. I know you’re scared, I know you are. But you have me and I’m yours and I love you so much. You believe that, don’t you?”

Sonny takes Rafael’s hand in his, offering it a hopeful squeeze and letting out a sigh of relief when he gets a squeeze back. 

“Yes, of course I believe you,” Rafael says. His shoulders droop then, like he’s lost the will to keep himself upright, and he practically collapses into Sonny’s arms. “I know I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, Raf, seriously. You know, I wanted to work for SVU because it meant I at least had a chance to help the victims before it was too late for them. I can’t do that for you. I can't be the one to lead the case against Whittaker, I can't beat his ass to the ground, I can't even be in the same room with him unless it's a courtroom so to know that he’s been in our home, that he said what he did to you, it’s killing me. I want so badly to do more for you, and I _can't_."

“Of course you are,” Rafael says, scoffing as if Sonny’s just said the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “This is all I wanted since he left. To hear your voice, to be in your arms, that’s it. That’s what helps me get through this, just being with you. You say you’re mine but god, Sonny, you have all of me.”

Sonny closes his eyes, committing this moment and those words to his memory. He hasn’t yet found a satisfactory way to express how grateful he is that Rafael Barba had chosen him, of all people, to love but if this works, if Rafael is happy just to have him here, that’s what Sonny will do. Through it all, the good and bad, Sonny will be there. When he thinks about his future, the only thing he sees with perfect clarity is Rafael by his side. 

“Let me take care of a few things and then I’ll take you home. I’ll talk to Liv, maybe she can arrange for a security detail for a few days, make sure he doesn’t come around again.” He pauses, gently brushing his fingertips up and down Rafael’s back. “Or— I mean, did you really want to go to your ma’s place?”

“I— I don’t think he’ll try to come to the apartment again,” Rafael admits. “I think he just wanted to get under my skin.” It had worked. He hates to have to admit _that_ but he sure as hell can't deny it, Whittaker’s plan had been effective. The thought of Whittaker’s hands roaming his body again makes bile rise in his throat and he covers his mouth with his hand, gesturing for Sonny to give him a moment. 

Is this something that will ever pass? Is it even possible to really find peace again after what Whittaker’s done to him, what Whittaker keeps doing to him? It’s a repeating nightmare, he keeps returning to it no matter how hard he tries to stop. 

“But I’d like it if we could stay somewhere else,” Rafael continues, “just for tonight. If you’re willing to join me.”

“We can stay somewhere else as long as you want,” Sonny tells him. “Call your mom, we’ll stop by the apartment just to pick up a few things, then we’ll head straight over to the Bronx.”

—

His mother hadn’t even asked questions when he’d called. To her credit, she never does, not like she used to when he was younger. She’s questioned his judgment, sure, had even tried to nudge him in the direction of asking Liv out _after_ he’d told her about his relationship with Sonny, but she’s always been there for him when he’s needed her to be.

This is no exception. She’d answered on the first ring. 

“Rafi, you read my mind, I was going to call you. The neighbor, the new one, I forget her name—”

“Roz.”

“—she brought over some ropa vieja, said I should have you come over and eat it because she heard about what happened, isn’t that nice?”

Rafael nods, even though she can’t see him, clamping a mouth over his hand for a second before giving his strained answer. “Yeah. Yeah, _mami_ , that’s really nice.”

After a beat, she asks, “Why do you sound like that? What happened?”

Letting out a burst of laughter void of any humor, he sighs. “ _Mami_ , I need to ask something of you.”

“You need to stay over.”

She reads him so well. “Yes.”

“With Sonny?”

He doesn’t know how she does it. “Yes.”

“I’ll get the guest room ready.”

“If we’d be imposing—”

“I’ll have the food warm when you boys get here.”

He falls asleep in the Uber from their apartment to the Bronx. It’s a bit of a restless sleep but at least the ride is relatively smooth and he doesn’t wake up screaming before they reach his mother’s. Rafael figures it’s okay to call that a win, he’ll take small victories when he can. 

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. With what he’s fed, he’s finally able to take his medication and it makes a blessed world of difference. He knows his mom wants to know what had happened, why they’re here, why he’s barely said a word or let more than a couple inches distances get between him and Sonny. Every time he thinks about talking about it again, though, tears start to well up in his eyes and he has to let Sonny distract from it. Maybe he can ask Sonny to tell her later, once he’s fallen asleep, maybe he can be selfish with this because he can’t shake the disgust of Whittaker’s hand traveling down his neck to his waist and it makes him shiver again now. 

“Raf?”

Rafael shakes his head, forcing a smile when he looks up at Sonny’s concerned face. “Just cold,” he lies. “I think I’m ready to go to bed.”

Lucia and Sonny exchange a glance, Rafael doesn’t miss it, but they all rise together so Lucia can lead them to the guest room. The first thing he notices is the patterned quilt made to look like stained glass laid out on the middle of the bed, his _abuelita_ had made it herself long before he’d even left for Harvard. In an instant, it makes him feel warm inside, safe, even though his heart aches from missing her. His mother usually sleeps with that quilt. She’d put this in here specifically for him. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, closing his eyes as she fusses with his hair and kisses his cheek. It doesn’t encompass what he really wants to say to her but it’s all he can come up with for now. Rafael knows she’ll understand. 

“I love you, Rafi,” she says, smiling when he returns the sentiment then giving Sonny’s arm a quick squeeze. “I’ll be up for another few hours if you need anything.”

Sonny nods and then they’re left alone together, the door to their room closing with a soft click. 

“How’s the pain?” he asks, gently guiding Rafael to the bed with a hand to the small of his back. “Is it any better now?”

“Much,” Rafael says. It’s a relief. “Head still hurts but it’s not as bad as it was before.”

“Your ribs? Wrist?”

“Still broken,” Rafael answers Sonny’s grimace with a wry smile. “And better than an hour ago. I promise.”

At least the bruises are almost faded, Sonny thinks, brushing his knuckles along the one on Rafael’s jawline. He helps Rafael to bed, pulling the covers aside and then over his boyfriend, shifting on his feet when he realizes he doesn’t know what to do next. It’s admittedly uncomfortable for him to be here, at his boyfriend’s mother’s place, even though that’s a little childish. He’s never been over here before, everything is so unfamiliar, and it’s not as if he and Rafael are going to do anything but sleep in this bed tonight but that doesn’t make him feel any less weird about it. 

Rafael seems to sense that well enough, reaching for Sonny’s hand and holding it loosely. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he says. It’s an offer, an out, one Sonny has absolutely no intention of taking. 

“No way.” He brings Rafael’s hand to his lips then lets it go so he can circle around the bed, switching off the overhead light as he does, and crawl under the covers beside his boyfriend. He’s gentle when he drapes an arm over Rafael’s hip, pressing kissing to his shoulder. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I love you,” Rafael says through a failed attempt at a stifled yawn. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You’re never going to have to find out. I’m with you every step of the way.” When Rafael doesn’t answer, Sonny lifts his head to peer over at his boyfriend’s face, relieved when he sees closed eyes and the faint hint of a smile. It’s no surprise Rafael had passed out this quickly, it’s been a hell of a day. 

But over an hour later, Sonny finds himself still wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. 

He could use some water, that’s one thing he’d forgotten to ask Lucia for before they’d come to bed. Carefully, he rolls away from Rafael, listening for any disturbance in the steady breathing and light snoring as he makes his way to the door. Once he’s got the door shut behind him, he lets out a long exhale, resting his forehead against the wood for a moment before turning toward the kitchen. 

He doesn’t expect Lucia to be there. 

His cheeks flush faintly under the low light when she looks at him over her shoulder. It’s awkward, catching his boyfriend’s mother out in her robe like this, even if he’s the only one making it that way. 

“Mrs. Barba—”

“Lucia.”

“Lucia. Sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not,” she says, reaching to open one of the cabinets. “I was just about to make some tea before turning in for the night.”

“Right. Um, listen, I wanted to thank you.”

She finds what she’s looking for, two mugs, and that doesn’t really register until she’s reaching for two teabags and nudging one of the mugs toward him. “What for?” Lucia notices his hesitation and dangles a teabag above his mug before letting it drop. “It’s herbal, don’t worry. You won’t keep him up.”

Sonny opts not to tell her if anything, it’ll be the nightmares that will do that. Instead, he gives her a grateful smile and takes the mug, tapping his thumb against the ceramic while they wait for the water she’s set on the stove to boil. 

“Thank you for letting us stay. Both of us. I know it’s probably not ideal, having me here.”

Lucia studies him for a moment, looking both amused and thoughtful. That’s an expression Rafael has definitely inherited from her. Finally, she sighs, reaching out to grasp Sonny’s hand. “Sonny, I love my son with all my heart, I do and always will. But I’m not what he needs. You are. He was alone for so long, you understand? It worried me, it worried his grandmother. One thing I will tell you is this: when he’s with you, I worry less. You will always be welcome here.”

She squeezes his hand. The kettle starts to whistle and Sonny’s relieved Lucia looks away because it gives him the opportunity to blink away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t do a particularly good job of it, which becomes evident when Lucia looks back up at him from pouring water into their mugs and lifts her brows in surprise. 

“What is it?” She sets the kettle down then lifts a hand to brush a tear from his cheek. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sonny shakes his head fervently, sniffling as he lets out a laugh. “No. No, believe me, you didn’t upset me, I just—” He tilts his head back to catch more tears before they fall, clearing his throat. “God, I’m just so tired. He’s so tired. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Rafi didn’t tell me what happened.”

Sonny picks up his tea, blowing on it then taking a cautious sip. “Tom Whittaker, the man who hurt him, he came to our apartment today.” Lucia’s lips part but she only blinks at him, waiting for him to continue. “I wasn’t there. Rafael says he didn’t hurt him but…”

“But you can see the pain,” Lucia finishes for him. Sonny nods. “I can, too.”

Sonny lowers his eyes, biting at the inside of his cheek to keep his voice from shaking. “I wish I could take him away from all of this, you know? I’m supposed to protect him but no matter what I try to do, it’s like I can’t keep him safe.”

“One thing I’ve learned being Rafi’s mother, sometimes it’s less about keeping him out of trouble and more about just being there when he needs you.”

“Can I—” Sonny hesitates. “Can I ask you something really personal?”

“Yes.”

“Rafael told me what you said when you came to see him last week.” He can see Lucia’s expression tighten but he continues. “About locking yourself in the bathroom and crying after he came home beat up.”

“Yes?” 

He thinks Lucia knows what he’s going to ask. She’s bracing herself for it and Sonny tries to convince himself it’d be better to stop while he’s ahead but he wants to know the answer. “After all these years, after what his dad did to him, how did you forgive yourself? I’m not saying it’s on you, please, I’m not. But how long did it take?”

Lucia gives a slight shake of her head. “I still haven’t. He’s broken that wrist before, I’m sure he told you.” She hums when Sonny nods again. “He doesn’t blame me. I believe him when he says that. But I’m much more critical of myself, just like you. I used to pray for forgiveness, I used to beg for it, but I never felt it within myself. I’m not sure I ever will. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll be spending the rest of my life making up for it.”

Sonny lets out a shuddering breath, tightly gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. “I usually go to church once a week. I go to confession and I light a candle and I pray but I haven’t been able to do that since he got hurt and the guilt won’t stop. I look at him, at the cast and the bruises and the bags under his eyes, at how thin he’s getting and how haunted he is, and he says he doesn’t know he’d get through this without me, but I don’t know _how_ to get us through it. I want it to stop.” He lifts the back of a trembling palm to his cheek, wiping away the fresh streak of tears that have fallen. 

“I know.” Lucia sighs, stepping to wrap her arms around Sonny’s tall frame. “You’re a good man. None of this is your fault, Sonny. It’s as much your fault as it is Rafael’s. Try to remember that, for both your sakes. Rafael has a habit of keeping his feelings to himself, he keeps things bottled up inside, and he’ll start doing that with you if he thinks you don’t want to hear it. Don’t give him that chance or I promise you, you’ll regret it.”

Sonny’s shoulders shake in her embrace, his face buried against her shoulder and tears freely flowing now, soaking Lucia’s robe. “It’s only going to get worse,” he says. “These people, they’re going to do everything in their power to make this as difficult as possible for him.”

Lucia’s eyes harden and she holds Sonny tighter, her gaze moving toward the room where her son is resting. “Then it’s about damn time we start doing everything in our power to make sure we stop them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and sticking with me! I got a little distracted filling a lot of lovely Tumblr prompts (and will continue to do that) but I've had the premise for this chapter in mind for a long time so it was nice to finally get to expand on it. I always find it fascinating when the boys take me one direction when I thought they'd take me somewhere else entirely. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this chapter even though it makes me emo. Please leave me a comment letting me know what you think, I appreciate all of you <333


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